


Burn the Ashes

by faith2727



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Drama, F/M, Minor Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson, Minor Caroline Forbes/Stefan Salvatore, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:30:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3990016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faith2727/pseuds/faith2727
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dark!AU. When the powerful Salvatore family is torn apart by tragedy and disgrace, Damon vows to exact revenge on those responsible, even if it means losing himself in the process. Elena Gilbert is the huntress tasked with capturing him and turning him in to the select group in charge of policing vampire society—a group headed by the Salvatores’ longtime acquaintance-turned-enemy, Elijah Mikaelson. As the truth behind Damon’s family’s misfortune is slowly revealed, will Elena find herself fighting against him or with him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.
> 
> Author's note: This is my first time attempting an AU story, so bear with me. It's quite a bit darker than my usual fare.
> 
> This story is partially inspired by Stefan's speech to Damon in "You're Undead to Me" (1x05) after he'd locked him up in the Salvatore dungeon: "During the Dark Ages, when a vampire's actions threatened to expose or bring harm upon the entire race, they would face judgment. They sought to reeducate them rather than to punish them."
> 
> What if the same were true in modern times? I've put my own spin on it, so it won't be handled the exact same way, but the underlying idea is there.
> 
> A huge, story-long "thank you" goes to my beta [daroh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daroh)! Her enthusiasm for Feral!Damon! spurs me on and keeps me writing. :)
> 
> Side note: The Mikaelsons aren't Originals in this story. They're just regular vampires.

A blur of movement passed to Elena’s right, and she spun around to face her target. Her eyes never left the vampire who continued flitting about the room but didn’t come within striking distance. The nonstop motion kept her own perpetually heightened senses on alert, but it was a little unrealistic. She huffed in annoyance.

“Stop messing around and attack me, dammit,” she growled. 

The blur abruptly changed direction and charged straight toward her. Message received. _Finally_ , Elena thought. She braced herself for impact, but all that came her way was a flurry of half-assed attempts to pummel her, all of which were easily dodged.

Elena aimed a kick at the flighty vampire, catching the female just below the knee. She stumbled but quickly took off, darting to the opposite side of the room. Growing tired of the game, Elena reached down and palmed the knife strapped to her thigh. She pulled it free, deciding to make something of this pointless endeavor. Anticipating the vampire’s next move, she drew her arm back and let the deadly blade fly. She heard a grunt followed by an angry yelp, indicating that she’d hit her mark.

“ _Ow!_ What the fuck, Elena!?” The blonde grimaced as she yanked the knife from where it was embedded in her upper arm.

“Don’t be such a wuss, Care. It’s not like I used the vervain blade.” Elena rolled her eyes as she took the bloody weapon from Caroline’s outstretched hand.

“Yeah, well, friends don’t use friends for target practice. Plus, you wrecked my new shirt,” she grumbled, picking at the tear on her sleeve.

“Sorry. It was a good exercise. Most vampires don’t stand still and let you hurl sharp objects at them. Especially not the feral ones,” she added.

“Ugh, fine. Just warn me next time, okay?”

“That’s the idea. No warning, y’know?” Elena pointed out with a shrug.

“I would agree,” interrupted a voice that made her cringe. “Most impressive, Elena.”

She scowled at the intruder. The smug-looking Brit standing in the doorway was openly ogling Caroline as she tugged her ruined shirt over her head, revealing the pink sports bra underneath. “Don’t you have someplace else to be? Like a brothel, maybe?” Elena snapped.

“Now, now, love. That wasn’t very nice. As a matter of fact, I’m here to collect the lovely Caroline,” answered the creep.

Elena stared at her friend in disbelief. “You’re going out with him? Are you crazy? He goes through women like we go through blood bags.” 

“I can hear you,” he sing-songed.

“Good for you,” Elena shot back before pulling Caroline aside. “Listen to me. Klaus is trouble, and you know it.” She might be a hard ass, but she wasn’t going to let this dick take advantage of the only person who truly cared about her despite her rough edges.

“Don’t worry. I can handle myself, ‘Lena. You taught me well.” Caroline gave her a quick smile and patted her on the shoulder before heading off to change.

Elena stalked over to Klaus, stopping a scant inch away from him. “She might be blinded by your charm, but I’m not. Hurt her, and I’ll slice your balls off in your sleep and mail them back to you. Are we clear?”

The arrogant smirk stayed firmly in place, but he held his hands up in mock surrender. “Crystal. I’ll have her home by eleven, Mrs. Gilbert.”

“Prick,” she muttered under her breath. Gathering her duffel bag and discarded sweatshirt, she pushed past him and headed straight for Elijah’s office. One of the many things Klaus’s older brother didn’t tolerate was tardiness.

*****

“Do you know this shit actually used to taste good to me?” Damon asked as he ran a hand over his face before briefly studying his sticky, gore-coated fingers. “Now it’s just the stuff that keeps me from desiccating, which would ruin the fun. The downside of too much binge drinking, I suppose.” He continued to address the limp, lifeless shell of a man lying at his feet. “Doesn’t matter. Won’t be long now.”

Stepping over the corpse, he walked through the wreckage of the main living room, shards of glass crunching beneath his boots. The décor these days left a lot to be desired, he noted, eyeing the remains of two other unfortunate souls—more of his handiwork. One had an ornate spindle from the grand staircase embedded in his chest, and the other was missing a heart . . . and a head. Messy.

Stopping in front of a wall of pictures, he wiped his bloody hands on his jeans in an effort to clean them before reaching for the largest among them—a family portrait. He brushed the cobwebs and dust from the frame while glancing at the once-happy group of people in the photo. Mother, father . . . brothers. Damon traced the smiling face, the arm that was slung over his shoulder. “Ah, Stefan,” he whispered.

Carefully returning the picture to its rightful place, he tried to remember how long it’d been since everything had gone to hell. After their parents’ death, the days had blurred together into one long, unending shit storm. Had it already been two years since they’d been gone? And Stefan . . . six months? Seven?

As painful memories threatened to overwhelm him, he picked up an antique chair and hurled it at the fireplace. “Fucking Mikaelsons,” he snarled amidst the clatter of broken bits of furniture raining to the floor. Nothing but a band of greedy, power-hungry bastards, the lot of them. The eldest hid behind a façade of sophistication and manners, but his younger brother didn’t bother trying to disguise his motives.

Damon had been biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. When it hadn’t come, he’d tried a different tactic, hoping to draw them out. He kicked aside the drained body of . . . what was his name? Haddock? Maalox? Oh, yeah. Maddox.

Piss poor excuse for a witch, if you asked him. Taking a seat in one of the few chairs that remained intact, he propped his legs up on an ottoman and made himself comfortable. Definitely wouldn’t be long now.

*****

“You’re late.”

“By what? A second?” Elena glanced at the grandfather clock behind Elijah’s desk. 7:01. _Oops._ “Sorry. I was busy threatening the jackass you so lovingly call ‘brother.’ Don’t get your cravat in a knot.”

“Still not one to mince words, I see. And it’s a tie, not a . . .” He indicated the length of burgundy silk tucked into his suit jacket, but the dubious look she shot him was enough to make him abandon the sentence. “Never mind.” He gestured toward the chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks, but I’m good.” Even though she’d been in Elijah’s office dozens of times, she strolled around the room, perusing the photographs on the walls as if she’d never seen them before.

Elijah cleared his throat in an obvious bid for her attention. “Perhaps you should sit down.”

“I’m listening. I can walk _and_ listen at the same time. Imagine that.” She paused next to a portrait of a beautiful blonde and ran her finger over the gilt frame. “Hey, when is Bex coming back? She’s supposed to be training with me.”

“Elena!” Elijah’s voice sliced through the space between them, and she finally turned to face him.

“What.”

“Sit. Down.” She narrowed her eyes at the order, and he hastily tacked on a “please” to appease her.

She stalked over and plunked down in the chair he’d indicated, yanking a foot up on her knee so she could examine the bottom of her boot. Finding a stone caught in the treads, she pulled a small blade from her back pocket and began working to pry it loose. At Elijah’s soft sigh of exasperation, she looked up at him and quirked a brow. “I’m sitting, aren’t I?”

“Very well.” He pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Yeah? Let’s hear it.” The pebble finally popped free and went skittering across the Persian rug. The knife, however, stayed visible, and Elena spun it between her fingers until it was nothing but a blur of metal. “I hope it’s better than the last one. A newbie hunter could’ve taken out those vamps.”

“I can assure you that this task will be difficult. Perhaps more so than any you’ve previously faced.” The blade abruptly stopped spinning and Elijah smiled. “I see I have your attention.” Without waiting for her to fire back with another snarky comment, he forged ahead. “You’re familiar with the Salvatores, of course. Or rather, what’s left of them. It’s tragic, really, how a family once held in such high esteem could fall so low,” he added. “I’ve received information that leads me to believe the eldest, Damon, may have succumbed to the same erratic behavior and rabid ways displayed by his younger brother before we were forced to step in and . . . dispatch that particular threat.”

“What kind of behavior?” Elena asked.

“An unusual number of bodies—all drained of blood—have been discovered in the area where the family estate now lies in ruin in the town of Mystic Falls, Virginia. You’ve heard of it, yes?”

Elena nodded, remembering that Caroline had once dragged her to a posh party at the Salvatore mansion years ago.

“A few days back, I sent Trevor and Frederick to investigate the situation. I haven’t heard from them since, and I fear they may have run into some trouble.” He picked up a bone china teacup and took a sip of something that was definitely not blood.

She rolled her eyes at the ridiculous display and leaned forward in her chair. “So you want me to be the next bullet in your loaded gun that’s potentially already misfired twice? Why not send Klaus? He had quite a hard on for the younger one. Stefan, was it?”

Elijah choked at her blunt words. “That’s not exactly the way I would describe it,” he sputtered, using his handkerchief to mop up the liquid he’d spilled. “My brother was in charge of capturing Stefan and bringing him here to face his punishment. He’s since become a bit obsessed with the Salvatores, so I feel he wouldn’t approach the current dilemma with a clear focus.”

“Shouldn’t it be ‘Salvatore,’ singular?” Elena pointed out.

“Indeed. I misspoke.” He rested his elbows on the desk and regarded her intently. “So, will you do it?”

She studied a chipped fingernail while she thought about his request. Was she prepared to hunt down the only surviving member of a family that had once been considered vampire royalty? If he’d managed to take out two of Elijah’s guys, then he was smarter than your average feral vamp. Dangerous.

The idea sent a thrill racing through her veins. She hadn’t gone on a decent mission in too long. She welcomed the challenge.

Mind made up, she locked gazes with the man who had recruited her to join his cause—his family’s cause—five years ago. “I’m in on one condition: I go alone. No backup, no partner, no buddy system.”

Elijah gave her a wry grin. “Confidence has always been one of your strong suits. You’re certain?”

She gaped at him. “Are you telling me you don’t remember what happened the last time you insisted I take someone with me?”

He considered for a moment, frowning as realization struck. “Ah, yes. The Tyler Lockwood debacle.”

“Yeeeah. You mean when Mr. Balls-for-Brains came down with a case of on-the-job performance anxiety and almost got both of us killed?”

“I do recall that turning out poorly,” he conceded.

“Glad we agree. I’ll gather supplies and be on my way in a couple hours.” She’d always preferred solo missions anyway. Partners slowed her down, and more often than not, they were extra baggage she didn’t need. Plus, she wasn’t going to endanger another member of the team without first doing a little recon to discover exactly what the hell was happening in the small town the Salvatores had called home.

“As you wish, then.” She stood to leave, the knife disappearing into her pocket. “Good luck,” he called to her retreating back.

The sound of the door slamming shut in her wake was the only response.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

_Swish. Crack._

“Where.”

_Swish. Crack._

“Is.”

_Swish. Crack._

“Your.”

_Swish. Crack._

“Brother.”

The vampire hanging limply from the shackles that kept him upright no longer reacted to each agonizing lash of the whip. The malicious torture device was designed specifically for his kind. The leather had been saturated with vervain so that the lacerations it caused were slow to heal, gradually draining him of his blood and leaving him in a constant state of weakness.

He was numb, inside and out. His captor’s fits of rage were so frequent that he never had time to recover from a beating before the next was delivered. Was this the third time this week? Fourth? He’d lost count of the days, weeks, months he’d been confined to this dank dungeon.

The bastard wielding the whip grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced his head up so he could get in his face. “Answer me!” he snarled.

“Go fuck yourself,” the vampire rasped.

Bracing himself for another barrage of blows, he was surprised when the sadistic asshole laughed instead. “So brave, Stefan. It’s a shame it won’t save you or Damon in the end. Soon he’s going to slip up, and I’m going to find him. Then you can watch your brother die, knowing all the while that your efforts to protect him were useless. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

_Wherever you are, Damon, stay as far away from this maniac as you can._ His jailer continued to try to bait him, but Stefan shut him out until his voice was reduced to nothing more than annoying background noise. He shifted his focus to thoughts of his brother, the only family he had left. Part of him didn’t mind the interrogations because it meant that Damon hadn’t yet been found. Or worse, killed. Like his—

No, he couldn’t let himself go there. Instead, he recalled a happier time, a time when his family had been whole. As he drifted in a dreamlike state, he pictured him and Damon sitting on the bank of the river, talking about their plans for the future while they watched the waterfall cascading over the cliffs in the distance.

“You can go anywhere you want, Stef. The world is your playground,” Damon said with a grin, the sunlight making his pale eyes appear nearly translucent.

“What about you?” Stefan asked.

“I’ll be around. We’ll probably run into each other at a pub in Dublin or some burlesque club in Paris. Maybe even the Playboy Mansion. Hugh’s getting up there. You could be his replacement.” He waggled his brows while Stefan laughed. “Mother and Father won’t be handing over the reins any time soon, so there’s still plenty of debauchery to be had.” Damon was rising to his feet when the sharp snap of a twig caught their attention.

They turned in unison to find a man standing at the edge of the forest—someone they both knew all too well.

“What are you doing here?” Damon asked, moving to stand in front of Stefan in a protective stance.

_Something’s wrong._ He _doesn’t belong in this place._ Stefan tried to speak, to stop the nightmare unfolding before him, but he was mute in the face of his worst fear. He watched helplessly as the man—no, monster—sped forward until he was practically nose to nose with Damon. His brother stepped back warily, but the bastard latched onto his arm and pulled him close once more.

“Stefan needs to learn an important lesson, and you’re going to assist me in the teaching of it.” A cruel smile twisting his lips, the interloper released Damon only to dart around behind him. He fixed Stefan with his cold, menacing stare, and then his hand shot out, punching through bone and muscle as if Damon were made of papier-mâché instead of sturdy vampire flesh.

_No!_ The shock and horror written on Stefan’s features were mirrored in Damon’s, and Stefan looked on in disbelief as the light faded from his brother’s eyes and he collapsed onto the ground. His murderer briefly glanced at the heart clutched in his bloody fingers before dropping it beside Damon’s body in a dismissive gesture. Rubbing his hands together until they were both stained red, he spoke in an almost conversational tone. “Do you understand now? There’s no escape. Soon, it’ll be your turn.”

Stefan finally found his voice, and it exploded out of him, the anguished scream tearing through the stillness and ruthlessly dragging him back to the present—

“How very rude of you, Stefan. Ignoring me again? You know how I detest that.” The grip on his hair eased, and chilled fingers trailed down his cheek in a disturbing caress. “Still trying to block me out, I see. Too bad you’re in no condition to fight.”

Stefan tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. “Stay out of my goddamn head,” he whispered.

“But I do so enjoy it when—” The buzzing of a phone kept him from finishing whatever vile thought had been slithering through his brain. Reaching into his back pocket, he fished it out and checked the display. “Mmm. It’s the delectable morsel I’m in the process of enticing into my bed.” He patted Stefan’s face. “Be a good boy and wait here, will you?”

When the door closed and the lock slid into place, Stefan released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The blood loss made it nearly impossible to concentrate, but he forced himself to stay alert so he could listen in on the one-sided conversation taking place just outside his cell.

“Well, hello, Caroline. And how are you this fine evening?” His torturer chuckled at the woman’s response. “No plans for tonight?”

The fake gentleman routine raked across Stefan’s already frayed nerves. Did she have any idea what this guy was really about? He sincerely hoped not.

“Elena left you to fend for yourself, did she? Pity. She’ll miss out on another opportunity to chastise me with her sharp tongue.” He paused as he listened to her reply. “Elijah sent her on a mission? Where to?”

Stefan perked up as he detected the abrupt change in tone. Gone was the playfulness, replaced by an intense curiosity. _Interesting._

“Come now, sweetheart. Why the secrecy? We’re all on the same side.” He fell silent again while she spoke. Unfortunately, the quiet was short-lived. “ _What!?_ ” he roared.

Stefan jumped at the shout that echoed off the walls, making his ears ring. A renewed sense of unease caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.

“I have to go. I’ll call you back later.” The man’s rapidly retreating footsteps indicated he was leaving the dungeon and heading back upstairs. Stefan was grateful for the reprieve, but he couldn’t shake the fear that trickled down his spine. Something was wrong, and the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach told him it had to do with Damon.

*****

The woods were quiet. Unnaturally so. Elena was almost glad when a crow alighted on the tree beside her and filled the air with its raucous cawing. Anything to cover up the crunching of leaves and twigs beneath her feet. This encounter would be tricky enough as it was; she didn’t want to announce her arrival prematurely.

She stopped when a whiff of blood reached her sensitive nose. It wasn’t fresh, but it was enough to tell her she was on the right track. Up ahead, she spotted a patch of disturbed earth and took a moment to examine the ground. More traces of blood. Had he buried the bodies Elijah had mentioned? Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to do any digging, literally or figuratively.

When she finally reached the house, she circled the entire property in order to scope out the best means of gaining entry. The place was enormous, bigger than she remembered. Then again, she hadn’t been concerned about the square footage when she’d been here last. There were several doors—one leading to the cellar, another off the kitchen, and an impressive set of French doors that opened onto a verandah. A few of the windowpanes were cracked and others were missing entirely.

The front entrance was ajar, and she paused to consider whether it was left that way on purpose as an invitation to a trap or whether the broken hinge simply prevented it from closing. She eyed the gap between the massive slab of wood and the frame. If she was careful, she could probably squeeze through it without disturbing the door and alerting the mansion’s crazed occupant to her presence.

Elena stepped closer to the entryway and listened for anything that might indicate a murderer was lying in wait, prepared to lop off her head the minute she crossed the threshold. When all remained still, she slipped through the narrow opening just as a gust of wind blew the door open wider, making it groan loudly. _Fuck._ So much for stealth. Her hand instinctively went for the knife hidden at the small of her back, and she gripped it tightly.

The air inside was stale and thick with dust. She picked up on the scent of blood here as well—stronger and fresher than what she’d found in the forest. Heavy draperies kept the interior dark with the exception of a few places where the fabric had been torn from the rods. Definitely the perfect haven for a killer, she mused. Lots of room to hide. Crappy lighting. It was like a horror movie set designer’s wet dream.

She wandered through what had been a Great Room of sorts but now looked more like the site of a recent demolition derby. The space was littered with broken furniture, and the floor and carpets had dark red stains on them. At the foot of the staircase was a wall of photographs, all of them obscured by cobwebs and grime. Correction: all but one.

Lifting the portrait from the wall, she studied the family pictured within. Giuseppe and Lily Salvatore were seated, their two sons standing behind them. Stefan’s arm was around Damon’s shoulders, and all of them were smiling like fate wasn’t about to turn their world upside down. She noticed a bloody fingerprint next to Stefan’s face that marred the otherwise clean surface of the glass.

“Well, well. Seems I have a mouse in my house,” said a harsh voice from somewhere above her. The top of the stairs? The rafters?

“Mice are the least of your problems,” she countered as she hung the photo back on its nail. “Are you gonna skulk in the shadows, or are you going to come out and play?”

She turned around when a soft thud sounded behind her. In keeping with the slasher-film theme, the vampire’s face was streaked with dried blood, and his black hair was matted. His clothing was torn and dirty, his shirt one tenacious button away from falling off completely. Despite his unkempt appearance, there was no mistaking the hypnotizing eyes that locked on hers. “So it is you,” she murmured.

“Come to haul me off?” He sized up her petite frame. “Elijah must be getting desperate,” he drawled.

She smiled at the obvious tactic. “Baiting me won’t work, Damon. You know the rules. Did you think he’d just look the other way while you murdered dozens of innocent people?”

“Who says they were innocent?”

“I’m not here for a morality debate.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Judging by the _Nightmare on Elm Street_ vibe you’re rocking, this is only going to happen one way, and that’s the hard one. Might as well get on with it, shall we?”

“Your funeral.” The whites of his eyes began to turn crimson, and his upper lip curled back, revealing a set of fully elongated fangs.

“I have a pair of those, too,” she hissed, letting her own teeth descend. Figuring he’d dart away if she charged him, she feinted to the side. What she hadn’t planned on was the hand that grabbed her arm, spun her around, and used her own momentum to send her airborne. She crashed through the staircase railing and skidded to a stop on the upper landing.

Shaking off the surprise of his sudden attack, she saw him start up the stairs and pulled her knife free. His eyes narrowed when he caught sight of the blade, but she didn’t hesitate as she launched it at him, burying the weapon to the hilt in Damon’s shoulder.

“ _Fucking hell!_ ” he snarled, and she heard the sizzle of burning flesh as he yanked the knife out and let it clatter to the floor.

Using the distraction to her advantage, she took off down the hallway, heading toward the ballroom she recalled from the party. The more space she had to maneuver, the easier it would be to get the drop on him. She pushed through the double doors, turning the lock behind her to buy herself a few extra seconds. She made it to the opposite side of the cavernous room before the doors burst open and splintered wood scattered across the floor.

He advanced on her, his furious glare making alarm bells sound in her head. This wasn’t a game. She knew without a doubt that if she let him get close enough, he’d kill her.

Damon stopped a few feet away, and she noticed the wet spot on his shirt where his wound continued to bleed thanks to the vervain-infused blade she’d used. “If you wanted to dance, why didn’t you just say so?” he sneered.

As soon as she opened her mouth to fire back, she knew she’d fucked up. He moved faster than she could track, and she tried to slip past him at the last minute, but he caught her in a brutal grip, her joints creaking in protest. Warm lips brushed her ear, sending shivers racing over her skin at the eerily intimate contact. “I bet you taste delicious,” he whispered.

Elena struggled against his hold and drew her leg back in an attempt to nail him in his tender bits with the heel of her boot, but he squeezed her tighter until one of her ribs gave way under the pressure. The spike of pain had barely registered when his fangs sliced into her throat, adding fresh agony to the mix.

_Shit._ She had to act quickly before her brain completely fuzzed out. Inching her fingers into the waistband of her pants, she located the vervain dart she’d stashed there and discreetly removed the cap. She carefully lowered her arm and prepared to jam the needle into his thigh. Just as the tip scratched against the denim of his jeans, his hand dropped away from her waist and clamped onto her wrist. He released her throat and proceeded to make obnoxious smacking noises while licking his lips clean of her blood.

“I was right,” he sighed. “Too bad you’re more trouble than you’re worth.” He brought her hand up—still clutching the dart—and jabbed the sharp end into the other side of her neck. She gasped as the vervain burned through her veins, and she sagged in his arms. She fought to stay conscious, but darkness was already creeping into her field of vision. The last thing she heard was Damon’s voice mocking her as she lost the battle.

“Sleep tight, princess.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

“Maddox, it’s Klaus. Call me back immediately.” Returning the phone to his pocket, he barged through the door to Elijah’s office without bothering to knock. Unfazed by the intrusion, his brother didn’t look up from whatever he was writing in the leather-bound book on the desk in front of him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Klaus seethed.

“That’s a rather vague accusation. Care to elaborate?” he asked, his nonchalance grating on already-frayed nerves.

A fist crashed down on the desk, leaving a dent in the beautifully polished wood. Elijah set aside his pen and regarded the agitated vampire pacing before him. “You seem upset, brother. What’s the matter?”

Klaus let out a humorless chuckle. “The _matter_ is that you let the Gilbert bitch go after Damon Salvatore. What’s more, you knew where he was, and yet you neglected to tell me.”

“And why is this a problem?” Elijah sat back and rested his chin on his steepled fingers.

“Because the Salvatore investigation is _mine_ ,” he snapped.

Elijah considered his response for a moment before addressing his infamously hot-headed younger sibling. “I sent Elena because she is the one best suited for this particular assignment. Your intense interest-turned-obsession has proven that you no longer are.”

“What makes her so special?” Klaus grumbled.

“Stop acting like a spoiled child. She’s a well-trained hunter, but she’s also ideal in a way none of the others, including yourself, can claim to be,” Elijah clarified. “With the exception of her tentative friendship with Caroline Forbes, she is utterly alone in this world. No family, no roots, no one waiting for her to return home at the end of the night. This makes her unpredictable, determined . . . ruthless. She and Damon are more evenly matched than you might think.”

“That’s a fucking load of bullshit if ever I heard one,” Klaus muttered, turning to leave.

“Niklaus.” Elijah’s tone left no room for argument, and his brother came to a halt but remained facing the door. “You are not to interfere. If I find out you have, I’ll pull you from any and all future missions. Permanently.”

Without acknowledging Elijah’s not-so-subtle warning, Klaus reached for the handle just as a knock sounded from the other side. Opening the door, he discovered a uniformed delivery man with a clipboard tucked under his arm.

“I’m looking for an Elijah Mikaelson,” the man informed him. “That you?”

Elijah joined Klaus in the doorway. “Right here.” He took the clipboard from the man and signed his name in an elegant script before handing it back. “Where is the package?”

“There’re two boxes in the foyer. Crates, actually. They were too heavy to drag up the stairs.”

“Not a problem.” After thanking the man and sending him on his way, Elijah brushed past Klaus and headed downstairs to find out what had been delivered. He wasn’t expecting anything, but the packaging suggested it might be a fresh supply of weapons.

Upon entering the foyer, Elijah found two rough-hewn crates, just as the man had described. There was nothing stamped on the sides to indicate the contents were fragile. The only thing on either box was a shipping label with no return address.

Klaus appeared as Elijah began prying the lid off the first box, the nails screaming in protest. The top came loose at last, and he tossed it across the room. At first, he didn’t comprehend the sight before him. The tangle of limbs situated at odd angles reminded him of a disassembled mannequin. His brain finally made the connection, but his brother was the one who spoke.

“What the bloody hell is that?”

Elijah grabbed the folded piece of paper that had been charmingly tucked into one of the lifeless hands. “I think you mean ‘who,’ not ‘what.’” He opened the note and quickly perused the message scrawled on it in black ink.

_I believe these belong to you. Better luck next time._

_\--D. S._

He crushed the paper in his fist as he glanced down at the body of his former employee. The stake embedded in the vampire’s chest was an intricately carved piece of wood, an odd choice for such a weapon. Elijah studied it closely, realizing that it’d most likely been torn from a staircase railing. Considering the one responsible for such a macabre display, anything was possible. “Now we know what became of Trevor. Open that one, will you?” he asked, waving his hand toward the second crate.

Klaus wasted no time in ripping the lid free from the container. He quickly threw it aside and examined the contents. “Frederick,” he muttered in a dispassionate tone. “Tore the fucker’s head clean off. Heart’s ripped out, too.” He paused as he pulled a smaller wooden box from the crate. The initials _K. M._ had been carved into the top in jagged lettering.

He slowly lifted the hinged lid and discovered another note sitting on top of a once-beating heart. Frederick’s? No, his was placed next to his body. This must belong to someone else. With handwriting identical to the one addressed to Elijah, the message was equally brief.

_Maddox didn’t have the heart to tell you he’d failed._

_\--D. S._

“I’ll kill the bastard,” he seethed, snapping the lid shut and tossing the box back into the crate.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Elijah warned, tugging the note from Klaus’s grasp. He read the single sentence revealing Maddox’s fate before huffing in frustration. “How is it that your witch happened to fall into Damon’s hands?”

Klaus stared at him, fury brewing just beneath the surface, but refused to answer. Not that Elijah needed to hear him say it.

“Let me guess. You went behind my back and had Maddox track him. I hope you’re pleased with the results,” he said, anger bleeding into his voice. “Listen carefully, Niklaus. Elena is handling Damon. She will bring him to us, of that I have no doubt. Then, and only then, will his punishment be delivered.” He took one last look at all that remained of Trevor and Frederick. “Dispose of these, will you?”

With that, he turned on his heel and went back upstairs, leaving his brother to deal with Damon’s ghastly handiwork.

*****

Something cold trailed down the side of Elena’s face, and she jerked awake more out of a sense of self-preservation than an actual desire to be conscious. Her head was pounding, her veins still tingling with the aftereffects of the vervain Damon had injected her with. That shit was potent, specifically designed to bring down feral vampires.

She groaned and started to open her eyes when she registered the distinct feeling of being watched. He was close, probably close enough to kick if she dared try it. Figuring he’d call her bluff sooner rather than later, she slowly cracked open her lids, unsurprised but slightly unnerved by the icy blue eyes boring into hers from mere inches away.

The grin he graced her with was ghoulish, made more so by the smears of blood still staining his mouth. _Her_ blood. “Finally. I was starting to think you’d never wake up,” he drawled.

She shifted uncomfortably on the unforgiving cement floor, the clink of chains alerting her to the fact that she’d been shackled to the wall. “Why am I still alive?” she croaked.

He shrugged. “Because I haven’t figured out the best way to return you to your handlers yet.”

How reassuring. “Make up your mind. I don’t have all day.”

“Plucky little thing,” he murmured before his amusement faded and he regarded her with a scowl. “I invited you into my home once, and this is how you repay my kindness? By hunting me down like an animal?”

Elena glared right back at him. “What the fuck are you—” Oh, shit. The party she’d gone to with Caroline. “You remember me?”

“How could I forget? You were with the tipsy blonde—Caroline something or other—who thought it’d be fun to dance on the bar.” He grimaced at the memory. “Then she slipped and destroyed thousands of dollars’ worth of alcohol, including the night’s entire supply of Dom Pérignon.”

Oops. She’d forgotten that part. Or maybe she’d just blocked it from her mind. “You want me to pay you back for the booze, is that it?”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Not quite. What I want is for you to answer my questions. Oh, and Elena?” He paused long enough to pick up a knife—the one she’d used on him earlier—and wave it in front of her face. “The truth would be good.”

Of course he knew her name. The way he said it was both a caress and a threat, and she shivered despite herself. Still, she refused to back down, meeting his gaze head on. “You can ask. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

Damon ignored her bravado. “Were you there when they killed my brother?” His expression was blank, but she could practically feel the emotions warring within him.

“Stefan? No.” She didn’t partake in the judge, jury, and executioner bit.

“That was awfully quick. Are you lying to me, Elena?” He pressed the flat of the blade against her arm, and she hissed in pain.

“No,” she gritted out between clenched teeth.

He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Do you know how they sent his body back? In a box. Left it on my doorstep like it was just some package that’d been delivered. Tell me, was it Klaus who tore out his heart, or did Elijah do it? My bet’s on Klaus.” As he spoke, he dug the knife into her, slicing the skin just beneath her shoulder.

Elena tasted blood and realized she’d nearly bitten through her tongue in an effort to keep from screaming. She spat on the floor and pinned him with a furious stare. “I told you. I. Wasn’t. There. If you choose not to believe me, that’s your problem.”

He pulled the knife away and rose to his feet. “Feisty. Normally, I’d find that sexy as fuck, but not today.” He sauntered out of the basement cell, locking the door behind him. “Looks like I’m gonna have to step up my game. Speaking of which, I think there’s a rusty chainsaw in the garage.” He winked at her through the bars. “Stick around.”

*****

Elena had two goals. She needed to get the hell out of this cell, and she needed to put down Damon before he cut her up into tiny pieces and FedExed her back to Elijah. It was a tall order, but she wasn’t going to let him win this time.

She scanned her surroundings to see if there was anything she could use to her advantage. Other than a single cinder block in the corner, the small room was bare. Glancing up at the ceiling, she noticed several small cracks near the hooks that anchored her chains. Huh. Apparently, Damon hadn’t been particularly vigilant when it came to maintaining his dungeon.

She yanked on one of the chains and was rewarded when the cracks widened, showering her with dust. Elena tugged again using her full strength, and the first hook came free of the worn stone. Catching it before it hit the ground and caused enough racket to alert Damon, she carefully laid the length of chain in her lap and began working on the other one. Unfortunately, it proved to be sturdier than it looked, the hook refusing to budge.

“Seriously?” she whispered, echoing one of Caroline’s favorite expressions. She gripped it with both hands and pulled until she worried that she’d bring the entire ceiling crashing down on her head. Just as she was about to give up and try a different tactic, the chain gave way.

_Progress._ Now she needed to figure out a way to ditch the heavy chains before someone mistook her for a character in a Dickens novel. Studying the restraints, she realized that one of the links was partially open, giving it a “c” shape. The broken link sparked an idea, and she pried it further and further apart until the small piece of metal was almost perfectly straight. Hoping for a miracle, she tested her makeshift lock pick on the shackles encircling her wrists. When the first one clicked open, followed shortly thereafter by its twin, she fought back the urge to do a victory dance. Her task was far from finished.

The door to her cell was made out of a sturdy slab of wood—oak, she surmised—so trying to break it down would take too long. Her gaze landed on the cinder block, and her dilemma was suddenly a thing of the past. Using it as a step stool, she stuck her arm through the barred window and felt around for the lock. She paused briefly to listen for any sign of Damon’s approach, but when all stayed quiet, she located the keyhole and went to work.

A few minutes later, she slipped from the room and darted upstairs. She needed to get to the entryway as quickly as possible. As a precaution, she’d hidden an extra bag of weapons and supplies in the bushes just beyond the front door.

Elena flew down hallways and through the Great Room before her destination was in sight. She grabbed the handle and wedged the door open as far as it would go, bright sunshine flooding the gloomy space and momentarily blinding her.

“Leaving already? But we were having such a nice time,” a voice taunted.

_Fuck._ “I’m not here for your games, Damon” she shot back.

“Who’s playing?” he called after her as she took off, racing toward the bushes. The grass was slick with dew and she lost her footing when she tried to stop, landing hard on the damp ground. She caught a glimpse of Damon heading in her direction as she scrambled to her knees and pulled her bag from the shrubbery.

She searched the duffel for the item she needed, her fingers closing around the gun just as he grasped her ankle and flipped her onto her back. She saw now that he carried a stake with him. Not interested in giving him the chance to use it on her, she aimed the gun at his chest and fired three times. The darts, miniature versions of the one he’d taken her out with earlier, embedded themselves in his skin.

He managed to remove one of them before he stumbled and sank to the ground. Keeping the gun trained on him, Elena got to her feet and stepped a safe distance away. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but all that escaped was a groan.

“It’s over,” she murmured. His eyes met hers as they slid closed, and she was surprised by what she’d seen there. She’d been expecting anger, but instead there had been a mixture of sadness, regret, and maybe even a hint of relief? Strange.

Once she was certain he was unconscious, she found her phone in her bag and dialed Elijah’s number. He answered on the first ring, and she kept her message short and to the point.

“I have Damon Salvatore.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

A hot shower. A couple blood bags. A bottle of the strongest alcohol she could find. A few blissful hours of sleep.

Elena repeated the list over and over in her head, promising herself all of those things as soon as she made it back to her place. She hated to admit it, but her fight with Damon had weakened her more than she’d realized. Unfortunately, every time she tried to slip away, she ran into someone else who wanted to ask her a billion questions or get her to fill out a report.

Elijah had met her at the back door as soon as she’d arrived with her cargo. After supervising Tyler and Anna while they’d transported Damon to his cell, he’d pulled her aside for a blow-by-blow of everything that had happened.

“Can it wait ‘til tomorrow?” she’d asked while trying to hide a yawn. He’d reluctantly agreed on the condition that she stop by his office first thing in the morning.

She had just reached the exit when Caroline’s voice rang out, echoing down the long hallway.

“Elena! Wait up!”

Her bubbly friend caught up with her a second later, but Elena didn’t have the energy to muster anything other than a half-hearted “hey.”

“Are you okay? I saw them bring him in.” She studied Elena’s face, no doubt noticing the dark smudges beneath her eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine. Just tired and hungry.” She patted Caroline on the shoulder, not wanting to seem dismissive of her friend’s concern. “I’ll fill you in in the a.m. I need to crash for a bit.”

Caroline gave her a small smile. “No problem. Just one thing before you go though.”

Elena glanced at her, wary of what she was going to say next. “What’s that?”

She hesitated for a moment, her smile fading. “You might want to steer clear of Klaus. He’s been in a shitty mood ever since he found out Elijah sent you after Damon. I think he resents you for it or something.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, but I could give a fuck about what Klaus thinks of me.” She waved to Caroline as she pushed open the door and stepped into the cool night air. “Catch you later.”

*****

By the time Elena reached her apartment, she was ravenous. It had taken every ounce of her self-control not to snack on the couple she’d passed in the stairwell. Fortunately, they’d been too busy taking turns grinding each other into the wall to notice the hungry vampire in their midst. Hell, they probably wouldn’t have minded if she’d stopped for a quick bite.

After nearly tearing her door off the hinges, she quickly locked it behind her and rushed to the fridge where she drained two blood bags in record time. She slumped against the counter while her features returned to normal and her fangs retracted, savoring the rush that came from feeding. As a fresh wave of energy surged through her veins, she scoured the kitchen for the next item she required: booze.

She found plenty of bottles. The downside? None had more than a drop left in them. Apparently, she’d neglected to restock her supply after her last bender.

Traipsing back out into the hallway, she knocked on her neighbor’s door. If he wasn’t already passed out on the couch, he’d be able to hook her up. The man should be attending AA meetings, but until that happened, he was the next best thing to a liquor store.

When her first try went unanswered, she rapped her knuckles on the worn wood and called his name. “Hey, Ric! You still alive in there?”

She listened closely, separating the sound of his heartbeat from the din of some obnoxious action movie. Still breathing. Always a good sign.

Elena put her mouth by the jamb and hollered again. “Open up. I don’t have all night.”

Some muffled grumbling, one stubbed toe, and an impressive string of curses later, the door cracked open to reveal the scruffy face and disheveled person of Alaric Saltzman, known alcoholic with a knack for lending an ear. He was like a human diary, mostly because he never remembered the things they talked about, and it had nothing to do with compulsion.

After rubbing his eyes, he managed to focus on her. “‘Lena. You alright?”

“Yeah. Rough day at work.” She gave him a knowing grin. “You got anything that starts with ‘b’ and ends with ‘ourbon’? I’m fresh out.”

“Sure you are. You’re just using me for my well-stocked liquor cabinet,” he mock-scolded, lips curling in a small smile. “C’mon. I should have what you’re looking for.”

He stepped back to let her in, and she surveyed the cramped space. He might be boozy, but his apartment was tidy: neat stacks of books lined the shelves, the coffee table and counter were free of clutter, and the bed was made. “It’s more of a pantry than a cabinet,” she laughed.

“True enough.” He gestured toward the couch. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

She flopped down on the sofa and picked up the remote, flipping through the channels while she waited. After a few minutes, Alaric returned with a bottle tucked under his arm and a pair of glasses, one of which he handed to her. Scowling at the glass, she set it aside and snatched the bourbon out of his grasp. She twisted off the cap and gulped down three mouthfuls before she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Hey, easy there. I brought that out so we could share it, not so you could polish it off all by yourself,” he muttered.

Elena stifled a growl as she reminded herself that she was no longer in the company of vampires. Alaric had no reason to believe she was anything other than a normal person with a demanding job and a penchant for alcohol, and she intended to keep it that way.

She took another swallow of the fiery liquid before reluctantly passing the bottle back to him. “Sorry,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

He poured himself a glass and set the rest on the coffee table in front of them, chuckling when he saw the way her intense gaze followed his every move. “You clearly need this more than me tonight. Go for it.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. In the time it took him to blink, she had the bottle pressed to her lips once more, letting the bourbon burn its way down her throat. When she stopped to take a breather (for the sake of appearances), she was dismayed to find that two thirds of it were already gone.

“So, work was a bitch, huh? Need to let off some steam?” Alaric asked, genuine concern in his voice.

“Nah, it’s not worth talking about. Same shit, different day; you know the drill,” she lied. “I appreciate the offer though.”

Elena had zero interest in discussing her confrontation with Damon. She was sure he’d be prowling through the recesses of her mind tonight. Maybe if she drank enough, she’d just black out and her brain would give it a rest for a few hours.

Right. Too bad easy solutions like that happened about as frequently as Elijah donned sweatpants. Resigning herself to a restless night, she resumed depleting Alaric’s bourbon while she went through a mental list of all the ways the next few days were going to be the fucking worst.

*****

Elijah was speaking in an insistent tone, as he had been since she’d shown up in his office a half hour before, but she only managed to catch every three words or so. She would much rather be in the training center working off the rest of her post-alcohol haze, but he’d wanted to be absolutely certain that every single detail of her trip to Mystic Falls, up to and including Damon’s capture, had been rehashed at least seventeen times.

“Then . . . chased . . . vervain . . . dungeon,” he droned on.

She was busy memorizing the pattern on the carpet and was pretty sure she could weave an exact replica when Elijah snapped his fingers and called her name.

“Are you paying attention at all?” he asked, his impatience growing.

She glanced up at him, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I was for the first ten minutes. After that, you went into beat-a-dead-horse mode and I zoned out. Can I go now? I’ve told you everything that happened. Repeatedly,” she emphasized.

“Not just yet. I’d like you to accompany me while I pay Damon a visit.”

“I’m sure your brother would much rather play good cop/bad cop with you. As a matter of fact, I think I saw him grinding an axe on my way up here,” she deadpanned.

He ignored her sarcasm. “You’ll be able to tell me if he’s lying about anything that took place during your altercation.”

Elijah’s reasoning was weak, and she was starting to suspect he was just covering his ass. “What you’re really saying is you want me to tag along as a witness so I can tell the others that as much as you wanted to stake him on the spot, you didn’t lay a finger on the guy or let Klaus pummel him. That right?”

Without answering, he rose from his chair and walked to the door. He held it open for her and gestured her out with a polite “Shall we?” His face was expressionless, but as she passed him, she could’ve sworn she caught a hint of a smirk.

*****

Damon’s cell actually looked like it belonged in the twenty-first century, a far cry from the medieval torture chamber he’d used to detain her. The door had an automated lock that clicked open after Elijah punched a code into the keypad. The chains they’d used to restrain him were also much more advanced. Spelled by a witch, they were impervious to vampire strength. He could yank on them all he wanted; he wasn’t going anywhere.

Elijah entered the room first and she trailed after him. “Good morning, Damon. I trust you’re comfortable?” the elder Mikaelson offered as a greeting.

Damon grunted in response, his piercing gaze locked on Elijah as if he wanted nothing more than to tear the other vampire to shreds.

Elena moved to stand beside Elijah, and Damon’s eyes narrowed when he caught sight of her. “I see you brought her in to rough me up when I don’t give you the answers you’re looking for. Never could stand to get your hands dirty, could you, Elijah?” he sneered.

“You needn’t concern yourself with Elena. She’s only here as an observer, although I should let her work you over as payback for the way you treated her,” Elijah noted casually as if they were discussing the weather.

Damon’s scowl deepened. “Don’t worry. She gave as good as she got,” he muttered.

“Happy to hear it.” Elijah regarded her with a look of pride before turning his attention back to his prisoner. “So tell me, Damon, what possessed you to slaughter those humans? Was it sport? Boredom?”

“Don’t you have more important shit to do, like challenge someone to a riveting game of chess or catch up on your ironing?” He paused to study Elijah’s pristine suit and whispered, “Is that a wrinkle I see?”

Elena snorted but tried to mask it by faking a cough. Damon might be a psycho, but she could still appreciate his flair for sarcastic quips.

“Enough!” Elijah snapped, and Elena couldn’t tell if he was addressing her or Damon or both of them. “I believe I asked you a question, Damon.”

The two vampires stared at each other, neither one willing to back down. Elijah finally stepped closer to Damon, his voice low. “Need I remind you that you murdered and dismembered two of my hunters and tortured another? That alone would be justification for killing you on the spot, but if you cooperate, perhaps the punishment doesn’t have to be quite as severe.”

_Yeah, right._ Elena knew he was lying, and she was sure Damon did, too. Even if they didn’t execute him, he’d be locked up and starved until desiccation set in. Neither option would be pleasant.

Damon spoke at last, pulling her from her thoughts. “Whatever happened to leniency for someone grieving the loss of his brother?”

“Your actions go above and beyond the boundaries of leniency, I’m afraid.”

“Huh. Funny how you refused to cut Stefan any slack either. Correct me if I’m wrong, but in a case like my brother’s, you’re supposed to give him a stay in solitary, dry his ass out, and then reassess the situation after a handful of decades. You don’t just fucking kill him like he’s a rabid dog that needs to be put down!” he snarled. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, since you started this whole goddamn mess when you killed our parents.”

_Holy . . ._ Elena’s eyes shifted from Damon to Elijah and back again while she digested this piece of news. There was a good chance he was lying. There was also a chance he wasn’t.

“Elena, you may go.”

“But—”

“Now.”

She hadn’t seen Elijah this angry in a long time. Fury rolled off him in waves so strong she could practically feel it. Listening to him for once, lest she find herself locked in a cell of her own, she quietly slipped out the door. One thing was perfectly clear—she needed to do some research, and she needed to do it now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

“Stefan . . .”

The voice that haunted both his nightmares and his waking hours burrowed its way into his brain, and because he couldn’t distinguish one from the other anymore, he chose to ignore it altogether.

“Time to rise and shine. I have some splendid news.”

The blow came without warning, the force of it causing Stefan’s head to snap back. If it’d been any stronger, it would’ve broken his neck. The desperate side of him wished it had. His temporary death would have given him a few moments of relief before the torment started anew.

Pain shot through his skull, and he groaned as he reluctantly opened his eyes. When he registered the sight in front of him, he immediately wished he hadn’t.

Klaus was standing a few feet away with a garish grin on his face, looking for all the world like today was the happiest day of his undead existence.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Such talk. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.” Klaus’s hands came down on Stefan’s shoulders, and he gave him a shake. “Guess who’s joined the fun?”

Stefan quickly looked around, wondering if he’d missed someone else being tossed into the cell with him. Fortunately, his search came up empty.

“Oh, our guest hasn’t arrived yet, but he will soon enough. Don’t fret.” Klaus tapped his chin as a thoughtful expression crossed his features. “I haven’t decided exactly how I’d like it to play out. Perhaps I’ll let him kill the bitch first, and then I’ll bring him here for a brief reunion with his baby brother before doing away with the both of you. The greatest number of birds for the fewest stones, you see?”

The genuine excitement in his voice made Stefan’s gut roil. No, it couldn’t be. Damon was smarter than that. He hadn’t been caught, had he? “You’re lying,” he whispered.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Sadly for you, I’m not.”

“Let him go. He has nothing to do with this,” Stefan pleaded.

Klaus chuckled. “On the contrary, he has everything to do with it. Plus, he’s been a bit of a bad boy himself. Seems he picked up where you left off.” He laughed harder when Stefan recoiled in horror at the news. “Oh, chin up. Things are about to get _very_ interesting.”

That’s what he feared the most. Stefan closed his eyes in defeat, wishing he had the strength to lash out at the bastard who’d turned his life into a living hell and was about to do the same to Damon’s. His worst nightmare had officially come true.

*****

Elena barged into the staff office and couldn’t help but roll her eyes when she spotted the person sitting at the desk. “Tyler. How lovely.”

He looked up from whatever porno he’d been watching on his laptop and gave her a wolfish grin. “Elena, hey. What’re you doing here?”

“I’m covering the rest of your shift. You can go now.” She hoped the reprieve would be incentive enough to send him on his way.

Never one to take a hint, he got up and sauntered toward her. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we lock the door, turn off the lights, and I’ll bend you over this desk right here? Or we could leave the lights on, if you’re into that kind of thing.” His eyes drifted to the cleavage she was rocking thanks to her low-cut tank top.

She sighed at his antics. “I’d forgotten what a shy boy you are. Just to be perfectly clear, there’s no way you’re ever getting anywhere near these.” She cupped her full breasts and let her hands linger for a moment while Tyler stared. Her actions ensured he hadn’t heard a word she’d said, but the tease was worth it. “Now why don’t you do yourself a favor and get the hell out of here before I tell Elijah that you’re up here jerking off instead of working?”

The mention of Elijah’s name made his head snap up, the dreamy look vanishing. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I totally would.”

Elena smiled, victorious, as he grumbled something about her being an “uptight bitch.” She watched him pack his things, giving him a saucy little wave as he stormed out.

“Finally.” Locking the door, she headed to the area where records were kept. The room was filled with file cabinets, but she quickly located the “S” drawer. Rifling through it, she found two folders marked “Salvatore.” Upon closer inspection, she discovered that one belonged to Stefan and Damon’s parents and the other was Stefan’s. Setting his aside for now, she flipped open Lily and Giuseppe’s file and began reading.

It was public knowledge that their deaths had been the result of a tragic accident, but was there more to it? Elena came across a number of news clippings bemoaning the couple’s demise. Vampire society didn’t use terms like “king” and “queen” anymore, but those two had been the modern-day equivalent. Beloved by all, they’d coaxed their people into an era of relative peace.

A detailed report drawn up by Elijah revealed that the couple had been caught unawares by a group of feral vampires while they’d been spending some downtime at their lakeside cabin. The crazed creatures had set fire to the aged structure, trapping them inside. The entire building had been engulfed in a matter of minutes, leaving them with no escape. The two had perished in the blaze, their deaths leading to Stefan’s meltdown and an impossibly heavy burden being placed on Damon’s shoulders before he too caved under the grief. The report concluded with a note stating that the individuals responsible for the attack had been rounded up and exterminated.

Elena closed the file and returned it to its proper place. So far, she’d discovered nothing to back up Damon’s accusations. She perused Stefan’s dossier as well, but there were no surprises to be found there either. Recalling Damon questioning her about who Stefan’s killer had been, she sought the answer but found only a single word describing his fate: _Executed._

It appeared Damon had been lying after all.

*****

“Whoa, looks like I hit a nerve,” Damon taunted. “Didn’t want your protégé to learn that her perfect boss is a murderer?”

Elijah’s fist shot out, catching him in the mouth. Damon tasted blood, and he spat on the expensive loafers of his jailer.

“That the best you can do?”

“Hardly.” He paused as he glanced down at his ruined shoes. “I sincerely hope you enjoyed exercising your bravado while Elena was here, because she was the last person who’ll ever witness your special brand of theatrics.” Elijah lifted his head, pinning Damon with an icy glare. “What little time you have left is rapidly diminishing. Once I speak with the Committee, I’ve no doubt they’ll give me license to dispose of you in a manner befitting your crimes. After you’re gone, the blemished Salvatore name will fade into obscurity along with you.”

“You smug son of a bitch,” Damon growled. “You can’t fucking wait to get me out of the picture so you can claim what rightfully belonged to my parents. To me. Do you really think Klaus is going to just step aside and let you take over? He seems more like the type who’ll kill you in your sleep and steal all the glory for himself.”

“I can handle my brother.” Elijah checked his watch before turning to leave. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go. As exhilarating as this verbal sparring match has been, I have an important meeting to attend.”

“With your so-called Committee?” Damon asked. “Gonna give me a chance to plead my case? I’m sure they’d be interested in what I have to say about the two of you.” He already knew the answer, but he wanted to see what other bullshit Elijah would throw his way.

He stopped at the door, his hand on the latch. “You have no proof of our involvement in your parents’ death.”

“Don’t I?”

Silence stretched between them until Elijah spoke at last. “They wouldn’t believe a word you said. Your opportunity for pinning the blame on us has long since passed.” With that, he slipped away, leaving Damon alone with his dark thoughts.

“Don’t count on it,” he muttered to himself as the lock clicked into place, reminding him that he was at an unfortunate disadvantage in this battle.

*****

“So, before you say—”

“No.”

“Elena! You didn’t even let me finish, dammit.”

“You’re wearing that face.”

“What face?”

“The one that means trouble. Either you’re planning on dragging me to some club where guys will crawl all over us like a colony of ants—horny ones—or you want me to go to a party with you because you think I’m antisocial and should be voted in as the president of the ‘Forever Alone’ club. Is that about right?”

Caroline was rarely speechless, but Elena’s uncanny guessing abilities left her with her mouth hanging open and proverbial crickets chirping in the background. Taking a few seconds to collect herself, she tried again.

“Uh . . . well, I did have one of those things in mind, yes, but not because I think you’re a loner. I just thought it would be fun to hang with you at this party I’ve been invited to.”

Elena felt like a bitch as she watched her friend’s radiant smile turn into a disappointed pout. Hurting Caroline was pretty much the same as kicking a puppy. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Who’s throwing this marvelous party?”

Caroline hesitated, and the needle on her oh-shit-o-meter inched its way toward the warning zone.

“Klaus,” she finally admitted in a voice so tiny Elena almost missed it.

_Red fucking alert! Sound the alarm!_ “Sorry, but that gets a hard pass from me. I’d rather set myself on fire than willingly spend time in a social setting with that asshole,” she muttered in disgust.

“But you won’t be spending time with _him_ , you’ll be with me. Rebekah’s going, too. C’mon, it’ll be fun!” she pleaded.

“Care . . .”

“Please, Elena? For me?”

Caroline was grinning again, and when she batted her lashes, Elena knew she was sunk. She was powerless in the face of her friend’s annoyingly adorable antics.

“Fine, but if he acts like a dick, I reserve the right to kick the shit out of him.”

With a squeal, Caroline enveloped Elena in a quick hug. “Deal. We’re gonna have an amazing time!”

If this was what fun was supposed to be, Elena was grateful she didn’t partake of it very often. Fighting an entire pack of feral vampires seemed less dangerous. Resigning herself to her fate, she could only hope Klaus had a well-stocked bar. She was going to need it in order to survive the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

Klaus was wandering the halls in search of his brother when he spotted his retreating back and hurried to catch up with him. “Elijah! I’d like a word with you,” he called out.

“I’m afraid it’ll have to wait until I return,” came the clipped response.

“It’ll only take a moment,” he insisted.

“What’s so urgent that it can’t wait?”

“It’s about Damon.”

Elijah raised a hand to quiet him. “In my office.”

Once they were safely out of others’ earshot and he’d pressed play on the stereo, filling the room with Puccini’s _Tosca_ to further mask their conversation, he eyed his brother warily. “Continue.”

“Have you finished questioning him?”

“Yes, but he was determined to be as uncooperative as possible. Why?”

Klaus shrugged and a grin crept onto his face—a grin that reminded Elijah of a devious child about to take a magnifying glass to an anthill. “I was thinking of having a bit of fun with him and Stefan before we kill them.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why the bloody hell not?”

“I’ve allowed you to toy with Stefan because I believed he could be useful in leading us to Damon. Now that he’s been captured, Stefan will be brought back here, and they will meet their ends as we had originally intended.” Elijah turned away from Klaus, missing the look of barely concealed rage on his brother’s face. “I have to leave. We can speak more about this later.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with the Committee to discuss Damon’s fate.”

“Make sure they don’t go soft on him,” Klaus warned. “You know Pearl and Rose have a weakness for the handsome ones.”

“Which is one of the many reasons why he’s not accompanying me.” He sent a smirk his brother’s way before ushering him out of the office and taking his leave.

*****

The vampires assembled in the opulent living room would appear as threatening as a group of pampered housewives to an uninformed observer, but Elijah understood the power they possessed and was wary of it even though he’d worked hard to ensure they trusted him completely. Although he was in charge of the hunters who rounded up feral vampires, the triumvirate seated before him had the final say on the appropriate punishment for each wrongdoer.

Pearl was the first to speak. Dressed in a simple but elegant black dress that complemented her hair, she was the picture of propriety. However, he knew her as a woman who was not to be crossed. Her daughter Anna was one of his new trainees, and Pearl had made it abundantly clear what she would do to him should anything happen to Anna on his watch. “Elijah, what brings you to us on such short notice? Your message sounded quite urgent.”

He glanced between the three of them, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “Thank you for agreeing to see me. I have news about Damon Salvatore. He’s been captured, and I’m holding him in a cell at HQ. Given the severity of his crimes, I would like your approval to . . . put him to death.”

“Blunt as always.” Alexia, a no-nonsense blonde, leveled her gaze at him. “Tell me, how severe are his crimes exactly?”

“He killed a dozen or so humans—more than enough to raise suspicions in the town, two of my hunters, and a witch who worked for my brother. He also attacked a third hunter I sent after him, but she managed to get the upper hand and bring him in,” Elijah reported.

“How unfortunate,” lamented the third woman, her kind face framed by short brown tresses styled in a pixie cut. “You ask for a great deal, especially after we agreed that his brother was too much of a threat to be allowed back into the world. Now you want us to do the same with the last remaining member of the Salvatore family?”

“I understand the repercussions, Rose-Marie. I’m as disheartened by this turn of events as you are, but his actions cannot be disregarded,” he pointed out with mock sympathy.

“You don’t feel that he would see the error of his ways, given time?” Pearl asked.

Elijah shook his head. “No. His animosity runs too deep, especially after what happened with Stefan. I believe he’s become unhinged due to the loss of his parents and brother.”

“Perhaps we should speak with him directly,” Alexia suggested.

“I fear his ability to participate in civilized conversation is nonexistent.”

The women looked at one another, and if Elijah didn’t know any better, he’d swear they were sharing their thoughts telepathically.

Pearl sighed, her voice laced with sadness. “It’s almost a blessing that Lily and Giuseppe aren’t here to witness this. They were dear friends to all of us, and we don’t take this decision lightly. However, if the situation is as you say, then we’re left with no choice.” She paused for a moment, and Rose laid a hand on her shoulder in support. “You may proceed as planned as far as Damon is concerned.”

He nodded and rose from his chair, making his way toward the exit. A light touch on his arm halted his progress.

“Elijah?”

He turned, unsurprised to find that Pearl had followed him to the door. “Yes?”

“Do it quickly. Despite what he might deserve, don’t make him suffer,” she added quietly.

“As you wish.” He gave them all a quick bow, buttoned his suit jacket, and hastily left the room.

*****

Elena ruthlessly tugged on the hem of her dress, wondering for the hundredth time why she’d decided to wear the damn thing. She’d chosen a little black number that suited her dark mood. It kept riding up in the back, and if someone so much as sneezed in her direction, she was going to be showing everyone her matching lacy black thong. “Why am I at this party when I could be lounging on the couch in an old t-shirt and sweats? Oh, yeah. Because apparently Caroline is better at torture than I thought,” she muttered to herself.

“Elena, darling! There you are.”

The only Mikaelson who didn’t bore her to tears or inspire her to murder people pulled her in for a hug before giving her a peck on each cheek. “Hey, Bekah,” she greeted the vivacious vampire. “Long time, no see. Where’ve you been?”

“Oh, a little bit of everywhere, I suppose. It’s good to be back though.” She hooked her arm through Elena’s and led her in the direction of the bar. “What have I missed? Who’s shagging whom? Who’s shagging you?” she asked with a wink.

Elena laughed at Rebekah’s shameless digging. “Tyler, if I let him, but that’s never gonna happen.”

“He’d shag the carpet if it suited him.” Rebekah rolled her eyes as she leaned against the bar and tapped her nails on the polished wood. “Can’t find a decent man these days. So, what are we drinking?”

“Bourbon on the rocks for me,” Elena requested.

“The strong stuff, I see. Rough day?”

“Rough week.”

The bartender handed over Elena’s drink and gave Bex something that looked like liquefied cotton candy in a glass. Elena downed the alcohol in a few swallows, earning her a raised brow from her companion. Shrugging, she decided to embrace the throbbing bass of the music pouring from the speakers, and she eased through the crowd until she reached the dance floor.

She was bobbing among the mass of writhing bodies when a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

“Elena, you came! Dance with me!”

Without giving her a chance to escape, Caroline tugged her deeper into the throng. Rebekah joined them within a few minutes—sans drink but with extra pep in her step—and the three of them preceded to make every male in the vicinity froth at the mouth.

Elena swayed to the sultry music, draping her arms around Caroline’s neck while Rebekah settled her hands on her hips. She didn’t mind being the filling in a kick-ass, girl power sandwich. Whistles and interested growls filled the air around them as they gave their fellow dancers a show. By the time the song ended, they’d been invited to two foursomes and a blood orgy.

She excused herself when the driving beat transitioned into a slow, couple-y tune and left to find the ladies’ room. Unsure of where she was going, she wandered down empty hallways until she spotted Klaus slipping out of one of the side rooms. Hoping to avoid him, she did an abrupt about-face and headed in the opposite direction.

Unfortunately, her exit wasn’t quick enough.

“Oh, look. If it isn’t the triumphant huntress herself,” he mocked.

“Not now, Klaus.”

“Now’s as good a time as any, wouldn’t you say, love?” he inquired with false sweetness.

Realizing he wasn’t going to let it go, she sighed and turned to face him. “What do you want?”

“To congratulate you, of course. Well done, Elena.” He walked toward her with his usual swagger, giving her a slow clap for her efforts.

Her hands curled into fists as she fought down the urge to pummel him. “Drop the act. We both know you aren’t happy about me capturing Damon. You’re pissed that you didn’t get the chance to fuck with him—actually, scratch the ‘with’—the way you did his brother before he was killed. Wait ‘til Caroline finds out about your extracurricular activities. I’m sure she won’t be as eager to hang all over you then,” she snapped.

During her rant, she’d watched as the bland look on his face had transformed into one of pure rage. “You bitch,” he hissed. “Damon should have torn your sodding head from your body.” He paused, a cruel smile curling his lips. “Maybe I’ll let him do just that.”

Elena was seriously considering ripping one of the wrought iron sconces off the wall and shoving it up his ass, lit candle and all, when the sound of a throat being cleared caught her attention.

“Everything okay here?” Caroline asked in her delicate way.

Klaus brushed past Elena and stopped long enough to kiss Caroline on the cheek, his eyes boring into Elena the entire time.

“All’s well, sweetheart. Just having a chat with the charming Ms. Gilbert. If you’ll excuse me, I have to resume my hosting duties. Save me a dance?”

The last question was directed at Caroline, of course. He wouldn’t have lived to see the end of the dance had Elena been his partner. She stared at his retreating back and wished she had her trusty knife. His scream of pain would’ve been music to her ears.

“What did he say to you?”

Caroline’s concern pulled her back from the edge, and she attempted a small smile. “Just some bullshit about siccing Damon on me.”

“Can he really do that?”

“I seriously doubt it. Elijah would be furious.” She patted her friend’s arm in reassurance. “Don’t worry about him.”

“I’m sorry. I asked you here so we could have fun, not so Klaus could be a dick to you,” Caroline said with a pout.

“It’s fine, really. You know what I could use? A large drink. Like bottle-sized. Since I doubt the bartender’s going to oblige me, do you know where Klaus keeps his liquor stash?”

“I think there’s a wine cellar downstairs. Want some company?”

“Nah. Go waltz with Prince Charming. I’ll be back in a few.” She was gone with a wink, leaving Caroline to wonder what mischief she might get into.

*****

“Well, it certainly suits his personality. He and Damon have the same taste in dungeons,” Elena murmured as she explored the gloomy basement. She hadn’t found the wine cellar yet, but the place was a labyrinth with dozens of identical locked doors. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what was behind them. “C’mon, Klaus. Where do you keep the good stuff?”

She turned down a hallway that looked even less used, if such a thing were possible. Cobwebs decorated the ceiling and doorways like creepy garlands. She could feel them skitter over her bare arms as she searched for any sign of the elusive wine cellar. When she reached the last door at the end of the hall, a familiar scent drifted through the dank air.

Blood.

Her fangs ached where they were sheathed in her gums. She noticed a dark stain on the floor and crouched down to investigate. It was dry, but she managed to scrape off some of the substance with her fingernail. She brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply.

“Vampire,” she whispered.

Just then, she heard a weak groan from behind the closed door followed by a shuddering breath.

“Who’s there?” Elena demanded, her eyes darting around in search of a weapon should she need one.

A hacking cough was the only response. Whoever was in there was either a fantastic actor or someone in truly bad shape. Was it a trick?

“Hello?” she tried again.

“Please . . . help me.” Elena had to strain her ears to catch the raspy words.

“What happened to you?” She glanced around at the numerous prison-like doors, so similar to the holding cells at HQ. “Are you being held against your will?”

“Yes.” He started to say something else, but another coughing fit stole what little breath he needed to speak. He eventually quieted and tried again, but all she could make out was “save,” “brother,” and “Klaus.”

“Hold on. Let me see if I can find something to get this damn door open. What’s your name?”

“Stefan.”

Her heart skipped a beat before resuming its normal rhythm. There were plenty of guys named Stefan out there, right? It was just a coincidence. Had to be. Still . . .

“Last name?” she asked hesitantly.

“Sal . . . vatore.”

_Fucking hell._ Either this vamp was yanking her chain hard, or she’d just discovered Klaus’s dirty little secret.

“That’s not possible. Stefan Salvatore is dead.”

“No. Tortured . . . by Klaus. Trying to find Damon. Wants to . . . kill us both.”

She broke out in a cold sweat as she tried to process what she was hearing. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Have to . . . believe me . . . please. Killed our parents.” More hacking and a painful-sounding wheeze. “No accident. Now it’s . . . our turn.”

_What the hell have I stumbled into?_ There was no way she could investigate further with a party in full swing and Klaus stalking around upstairs. She’d have to wait until she found something that would either confirm or deny his story. Still, the fact that it mirrored Damon’s as far as their parents’ deaths were concerned was unnerving.

“I can’t spring you right now. It’s too risky. Can you hang in there a little bit longer?”

He stayed silent, and she thought he may have passed out. He finally answered, his voice catching with a combination of emotions at which she could only begin to guess.

“Please . . . help him.”

Help him? Help _whom_? Damon?

“I’ll do my best.”

Elena ran out of the dungeon/basement, her mind spinning as she tried to figure out what to do first. She tore up the stairs and almost plowed into Caroline, who had been waiting on the top step.

“I was just coming to find you.” She paused as she gave Elena a onceover. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What the hell happened down there? Where’s your bottle?”

“I never thought I’d say this, but the bourbon’s gonna have to wait, Care. I just unearthed a bigger problem.”

As Caroline waited for her to continue, Elena argued with herself over whether or not to endanger her friend.

“‘Lena, tell me.”

“This isn’t just shits and giggles stuff. If something goes wrong here, it could blow up in all our faces,” she stressed.

“I can handle it.”

She’d always admired Caroline’s bravery. Hell, the fact that she was sort of dating Klaus proved she was made of sturdier stuff than most.

“Okay, but not here. Let’s go back to my place.”

The two of them bid hasty goodbyes to a disappointed Rebekah, and Caroline told Klaus she’d call him tomorrow while Elena glared at the bastard over her bestie’s shoulder. If Stefan’s story checked out, she was going to enjoy digging Klaus’s grave. If the whole fucking mess didn’t kill her first, that is.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

Elena stared at the ceiling like it was some crystal ball that would magically provide her with the answers to all her problems. She’d attempted to go to bed after Caroline left four hours ago, but her eyes refused to close and her mind wouldn’t stop rehashing every little detail of her conversation with “Stefan.”

She’d slapped mental quote marks around his name because part of her hoped it was all a joke and Klaus hadn’t really been torturing someone who’d been presumed dead for the past seven months.

Caroline’s eyes had widened with shock when Elena filled her in on her disturbing discovery.

_“You’re sure it’s really him?”_

_“Not a hundred percent, but it’s clear there’s something strange going on. Whoever’s in that cell is there for a reason. If it’s just a run-of-the-mill feral vamp, why not keep him at HQ? Why hide him in Klaus’s basement?”_

_“True.” Caroline chewed on her bottom lip as she mulled over the possibilities. “Do you think Elijah knows?”_

_“I don’t know. Could Klaus keep such a huge secret from his brother? Seems unlikely.”_

_“You’re right.” She took a small sip from the bottle of bourbon Elena had opened as soon as they’d walked through the door. Grimacing as the heady liquor slid down her throat, she handed the bottle back to her friend. “What are you gonna do?”_

There it was—the question Elena couldn’t even begin to answer because she had no fucking clue. What was she supposed to tell Elijah? “Oh, by the way, boss, Klaus is keeping some guy who calls himself Stefan Salvatore in his own personal dungeon where he’s been getting his jollies off by torturing him. Hope you’re not as shifty as your brother! Toodles!”

Elena suddenly recalled something Damon had said to her during her brief stint as his prisoner. _“Do you know how they sent his body back? In a box. Left it on my doorstep like it was just some package that’d been delivered.”_

If Stefan was alive, whose body had they given to Damon? Had they disfigured the corpse in some way so Damon could only assume it was his brother, or was witchcraft involved? He’d behaved as if he’d been absolutely certain it was Stefan.

Then there was the matter of Stefan asking her to help Damon. Help the one who’d been ready to stake her before she’d shot him full of vervain? He’d probably want to finish what he’d started if she freed him.

She sighed and dragged the covers over her head. So many questions. Zero answers. Zero chance of getting any sleep.

*****

Elena rubbed her eyes as she trudged through the training center. She’d seen every hour tick by before her alarm started blaring at 7 am. Normally, she wouldn’t bother coming in so early, especially the morning after a big party, but she savored the quiet as she walked the deserted hallways. She could burn off some of her frustration without taking it out on another hunter.

She dropped her bag just inside the doorway of the spacious room used for sparring and other training activities. Peeling off her sweatshirt, she tossed it aside and headed toward the weapons cache. She was testing the sharpness of a wicked-looking blade when the sound of approaching footsteps began to echo off the walls.

She turned to face the intruder, the knife held loosely at her side. “For fuck’s sake, can’t a girl—” Her words dried up when Elijah stepped into the closet-like space, his eyes immediately landing on the weapon in her hand.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he offered by way of greeting.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t think anyone was here.” Elena put the knife back in its case, frowning as she noticed her bedraggled appearance in the reflection of the polished metal.

“I wanted to share some news with you that I think you’ll find pleasing,” Elijah continued.

“What’s that?”

“Damon’s punishment has been decided. In two days’ time, he will be executed.” The smile he gave her had an edge to it that could be interpreted as victorious . . . or something much darker. Vicious, maybe. It was unsettling, and it reminded her that Elijah likely knew of Stefan’s prolonged torment—even approved of it.

_Fucking perfect. Now there’s a deadline._ Forcing herself to react before he became suspicious of her non-response, she mustered a grin of her own. “That’s good. One less problem we’ll have to deal with.”

“Indeed. Thanks to you, this nightmare has finally reached its conclusion. Excellent work, Elena.”

She shrugged off the praise. “I did what was asked of me.”

“Even so, you succeeded where others did not.” His cell trilled, and he pulled it from his pocket. After checking the display, he sighed and apologized a second time. “I’m sorry, but I should take this.”

“Go for it,” she encouraged, hoping he’d take off without any further need for chitchat.

He nodded and backed out the door, phone to his ear. “Rebekah. What can I do for you, little sister?” With that, he was gone, but Elena’s mind was far from calm.

_Thanks for the reprieve, Bex._ Now she just had to figure out how she was going to get this shit sorted in 48 hours.

Elijah had it wrong. The nightmare was far from over; it’d only just begun.

*****

Damon heard the lock disengage and braced himself for his visitor. Was Elijah back for another round of idle threats, or would it be Elena with an armload of pointy objects, intent on using him as a vampire dartboard? Part of him hoped it was the latter, even if the end result would be painful. Much as he didn’t want to admit it, he admired her fire and her badassery. It was a shame they were at opposite ends of the spectrum as far as his current debacle was concerned.

His internal musings faded when he realized neither of his guesses were correct. Instead, the worst possible option presented itself in the form of Klaus Mikaelson.

Damon’s reaction was instantaneous. His vision became tinged with red, and his fangs punched through his gums, eager to tear into the fucker’s throat. “What are you doing here, you sorry piece of shit?” he growled.

“Temper, temper. Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Klaus tossed back.

“Don’t kid yourself. Last time I checked, friends don’t slaughter each other’s family members.”

“Frenemies, then? Perhaps that’s the term I’m looking for.”

“The term you’re looking for is backstabbing, murderous motherfucker, and it applies only to you,” Damon snarled. “If I wasn’t chained to this goddamn wall, there wouldn’t be anything left of you but a smear on the floor.”

Klaus immediately dropped the nice act and stalked forward, his fingers wrapping around Damon’s throat. “That’s a lot of talk for someone whose days are numbered. And to think, I was going to be generous and let you exact your revenge on the bitch who captured you in the first place.”

“Tempting, but she’s a lot nicer to look at than you are,” he rasped as Klaus’s grip tightened. “You gonna kill me and spoil the big finish?”

“Don’t push me, mate. Luckily—or maybe unluckily—for you, I have a surprise that’s going to make all of this so much more interesting.”

“If by ‘surprise’ you mean the pencil in your pocket that’s poking me in the hip right now, then I hate to break it to you, _mate_ , but I don’t swing that way.”

“You bast—”

“Niklaus!” Elijah stormed into the cell and hauled his brother away from Damon. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Busted,” Damon chimed in, already enjoying the hell out of the scene unfolding before him.

“Silence.” Elijah slashed a hand through the air but kept his focus solely on Klaus. “Answer the question.”

Klaus managed a thin smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Damon and I were just having a little chat is all. Is there a problem?”

“Liar, liar,” Damon muttered under his breath. “Careful, Elijah. Your brother’s planning to steal your thunder.”

“Unless you’d like to part ways with your loose tongue, I suggest you be quiet,” Elijah warned, pinning Damon with a glare. The snarky vamp smirked but wisely said nothing.

Satisfied that his point had been made, he addressed his brother once more. “We can discuss this elsewhere. Come, we’re leaving.”

“Elijah—”

In the space of a second, Elijah had the lapels of Klaus’s jacket in an unyielding grip. “Listen to me very closely. Everything is falling into place just as I need it to be. I will not allow you to ruin what I’ve worked so hard to achieve with your persistent and impetuous need for playtime. Do I make myself clear?”

Klaus tried to shake him off, but Elijah refused to budge. “What _you’ve_ worked so hard to achieve? Don’t you mean _we’ve_?”

Without responding, he dragged Klaus to the door and shoved him out into the hallway. Hand on the knob, he glanced at Damon with eyes that had gone cold and flat.

“You have two days. Then the game is over.”

*****

Hours passed as Elena went through each exercise at a punishing pace—target practice, sparring, swordplay (Elijah was an old-fashioned soul, after all). She’d been waiting for her brain to kick into gear and provide her with a brilliant solution to her problem, but it seemed to be mocking her by staying silent.

Her sparring partner narrowly dodged the roundhouse kick aimed at her head, and Elena followed it up with a quick left hook that connected, sending her opponent to the floor.

“Bloody hell, Elena. What’s got you so wound up? Obviously, the party didn’t take off much of the edge,” Rebekah groused as she rose to her feet in a graceful move and dusted off her black leggings.

“Sorry. Just frustrated,” Elena explained, going to collect her duffel while Rebekah trailed after her.

“About what exactly?”

“Too many things to count,” she replied, dodging the real answer. She couldn’t very well tell Bekah that she suspected one of her brothers was rotten to the core. “Eh, it’s no big deal. I’ll just partake in alcohol therapy or something.”

Rebekah arched a brow. “You’re a bit of a lush lately. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”

_Sure! Go scour Klaus’s cellar and tell me if you find the supposedly deceased Stefan Salvatore barely alive and not-so-well down there._ “Nah. It’s something I have to deal with on my own.” Elena stretched her tired muscles in an attempt to loosen some of the kinks. “Thanks though. Feel free to join me later if you want. I’m pretty sure my entire apartment complex is a haven for drunks.” She tried for a laugh, but the result was unconvincing even to her.

“I would, but I invited Elijah and Klaus over for dinner tonight. I’ve hardly seen them since I’ve been back, and we’ve got a bit of catching up to do,” Rebekah explained. “Rain check?”

“Sure, no prob—” Elena’s eyes widened as Rebekah’s words sank in. If she was busy entertaining her brothers tonight, they wouldn’t be around to get in Elena’s way. _Perfect._

“Are you alright? That look you’re wearing usually means trouble.”

“You’ve just given me an idea that could help me mop up the current drama.” Elena smiled, and this time, she didn’t have to fake it. “You’re the best, Bex. Have fun with the bros. Punch the younger one for me.” With that, she grabbed her bag and disappeared down the hallway.

Rebekah could only stare in confusion at the spot where Elena had just been standing. “But I didn’t do anything . . .”

*****

The lock on the door to Elijah’s office wasn’t electronic like the ones on the cells housing their prisoners, which meant it was pickable. Apparently, he valued an antique skeleton key over actual security. His loss.

Scanning the hallway to confirm she was alone, she rattled the pick around in the lock until she heard the telltale click. Easing the door open, she slipped inside and closed it behind her. There was no way to lock it again without the key, so she hoped there was a spare hidden somewhere in Elijah’s desk.

She paused, letting her eyes wander over all the possible hiding places. Her job was made slightly easier by the fact that Elijah didn’t have a computer, so there was no hacking involved. He preferred the written word. Literally.

A quick sweep of the furniture left her with a short list of things to search: file cabinet, a couple of odd drawers at the bottom of the bookcase, and the obvious one—his desk. She started with the cabinet but found only folders of old receipts and logbooks containing years of records, none of them mentioning feral vamps. The bookcase drawers held more books (surprise!), so she moved on to the desk. Even more boring than the previous locations, all she came up with were extra pens, notepads, and a handful of business cards. Also, no spare key. _Fuck._

Dragging a hand through her hair in frustration, she glanced at the portraits on the walls, her attention immediately drawn to the one of Rebekah that she’d been admiring the day Elijah had first lured her into this mess. The golden frame shone in the soft glow from the overhead lighting, and Elena attempted to carefully lift it from whatever nail or hook was anchoring it to the wall. When the thing refused to budge, she slid her fingers along the edges, checking for hinges or some other mechanism. Her nails found purchase on the right-hand side of the frame, and it swung away from the wall to reveal a small alcove within which a safe was nestled. _Bingo._

She absently spun the dial as she considered which numbers to try. It was probably a date, and she doubted Elijah would use his own birthday, so she tried Rebekah’s first. When the door stayed locked, she gave Klaus’s b-day digits a whirl, disgusted that she even knew that particular piece of information. Still no luck. She briefly thought about Elijah’s parents, but the relationship they shared with their children could be best described as “It’s Complicated,” so she didn’t bother with their relevant dates.

What date was so important to him that he would use it to conceal whatever it was he was hiding in the safe? He wasn’t bonded—the vampire version of marriage. He had no children. She needed a date that was life changing, a turning point . . .

The answer flashed into her mind so abruptly that she laughed at the ridiculousness of it. There was no way he’d use that date. Still, she had nothing to lose by trying it.

5.

30.

13.

_Click._ She pulled on the handle, and the door opened with a creak. Tamping down her rising panic long enough to examine the contents, she reached for the stack of papers inside and rifled through them. Concealed within the handful of documents was an old leather journal. She skimmed through the pages, stopping to read an entry in the middle of the book.

_Not even the torment of the lash has loosened Stefan’s tongue. He refuses to give up any information that may lead us to his brother, despite the various methods Niklaus has devised in the hopes of coercing him to do so . . ._

_Jesus._ She tossed the journal back in the safe, disgust making her stomach churn. On the upside, it confirmed that Stefan was indeed the vamp in Klaus’s basement and hadn’t been killed as Elijah had led her to believe. At least not yet, anyway.

She continued her search, discovering several letters from a group of vampires who’d gone into hiding to protect themselves. Elijah had provided them with funds, shelter, and supplies over the years.

Elena scowled as she perused each one. None of it made any sense. Who were these vamps and why did they need the Supernatural Witness Protection Program? The last paper in the pile was folded and worn as if it’d been carried in someone’s pocket for long periods of time. She opened it and quickly read the elegant handwriting before it drifted to the floor, released by fingers suddenly gone numb.

_. . . I’ve gathered six vampires for the task and instructed them to adopt a feral guise. After confirming that the targets are inside, they are to set fire to the cabin and block all possible exits to prevent their escape._

_Once the plan has been successfully executed, the group will disperse to previously agreed upon locations, and the official report will reflect that they were exterminated on the spot for their crimes._

_\--E. M._

The whole plot was spelled out in exact detail in Elijah’s own hand—on a tattered page he’d apparently ripped from his journal and had intended to dispose of until pride in his success led him to unwisely keep it—and tucked away in a safe, the combination to which was the date of Lily and Giuseppe’s deaths.

Correction—the date they’d been murdered. A murder orchestrated by her boss.

Damon and Stefan were right.

Damon was going to die. Stefan was still alive. Barely.

Elena sank to the floor as the true horror of the situation sank in, turning the blood in her veins to ice. Now she needed to save one pair of brothers from another pair who were intent on obliterating them. And it was going to take a goddamn miracle to pull it all off.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

“Have you ever been so fucked that you just decided to forget it all and bury your head in the sand?” Elena asked, addressing the bourbon bottle cradled in her lap.

Alaric was half humming, half singing in the kitchen, and she couldn’t figure out for the life of her what song it was. She listened closer, giggling when she realized why she’d been confused.

“Sweeeeeeeet Caroliiiiiiiine. Bum bum baaaah.”

More humming. He owned the chorus, but everything before and after it was a mystery.

“Jesus, Ric. Don’t give up your day job,” she joked, covering her ears at the pitchy performance.

“What’s wrong with my singing?” he asked, giving her a pouty face as he rejoined her on the couch.

Elena laughed at his ridiculous antics. “You call that noise singing?”

“Better be nice to me,” he warned. “I’ll cut you off.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I might,” he sulked.

“Ugh, fine. You’re a brilliant singer. Happy?”

“Very.” His lopsided smile told her he’d probably pass out soon-ish, so she’d better enjoy the company while she had it.

It was beyond tempting to unload all of her problems while she had a captive audience. She hadn’t yet told Caroline about the latest, and most upsetting, reveal. She didn’t want her friend mixed up in this mess, but she knew she couldn’t keep it a secret for much longer. Besides, Care was an excellent planner and would most likely have some great ideas for places to hide Damon and Stefan once she busted them out.

Wait, since when was she seriously considering going through with this?

“Did you say something about needing to hide someone?” Alaric interrupted her internal debate, making her realize she’d been speaking out loud.

“It’s nothing. I was just rambling,” she muttered.

“Right. I might be drunk, but I’m not deaf,” he tossed back. “If you need help, let me do this one little thing.”

“I appreciate the offer, Ric, but it’s fine. I’ll handle it.”

He set down his drink on the table and grabbed a notepad and pen. _Uh oh._ Whenever Alaric willingly parted ways with his drink, even for a short time, you knew shit was about to get serious. “Listen, I know a woman who takes in runaways and people who need to lay low for a while. Nothing shady though. I’ll give you her information, and you can do with it what you will.” He passed her the pad and pen. “You better write it down. If I do it, you’ll never be able to read it.”

She took note of the woman’s name, address, and phone number as Ric rattled them off. It was a sweet gesture, but she couldn’t tuck away two unpredictable, unstable vampires in the home of some Good Samaritan. Talk about a recipe for disaster.

When she’d finished writing, Alaric sat back with a satisfied smile, his glass once again in his grasp. “There. Now you can’t say I didn’t at least try to help.”

“Thanks.” She slipped the paper into her pocket and topped off her drink. A quick glance at Ric told her he was fighting a losing battle with impending unconsciousness. His lids would drift shut for a few moments before he’d startle himself awake again. This continued until he finally gave in, and a round of window-rattling snores commenced.

Maybe while he was sleeping, she’d tell him the fucked-up story of the Mikaelsons and the Salvatores and how she’d found herself in the middle of their feud from hell. Maybe if she talked her way through it, she’d come up with the brilliant plan she so desperately needed. Or maybe she was slowly losing her mind, and this was her new coping mechanism.

Yeah, that was probably it.

*****

“Elena, how are you this fine morning?”

Elijah’s borderline-chipper greeting made her want to put her head through a wall. At least someone was happy, and she had a pretty good idea why. The sand in Damon’s (and Stefan’s, she supposed) hourglass was rapidly running out. Tomorrow was the big day.

“Swell,” she answered, sounding anything but. “Is there something you need? I’m on my way to meet Caroline for a training session.”

He seemed momentarily surprised by her dismissive attitude but chose to ignore it. “Yes, actually, there is. I wanted to ask if you’d seen anything suspicious last night. When I arrived this morning, the door to my office was unlocked. I distinctly remember locking it before leaving yesterday.”

_Shit. Don’t react._ “Sorry. Everything was quiet as far as I know. Rebekah and I had a sparring match, and then she left to make dinner for you and Klaus while I went home for a much-needed nap. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.” Convincing enough? She hoped so.

“I see. Well, do me a favor and keep an eye on things this evening, will you? My brother and I have some business to attend to, and we won’t be returning until late.” He continued to smile his contented smile, so she let herself relax.

“Sure, no problem. Vamp business?” she ventured.

“Let’s just say that we’re arranging for the transport of some important cargo,” came the vague explanation, but Elena already had an idea of what, or rather who, the “cargo” was meant to be.

“Sounds like fun. Catch you later.” She turned away before he caught her rolling her eyes and started down the hallway toward the training center.

“Oh, Elena?” Elijah called to her. “One more thing.”

“Yeah?” she answered over her shoulder.

“Make sure Damon is fed tonight.”

_Wait. Is he joking?_ Elena stopped and glanced back at her boss. “Feed him? What the hell for?”

Elijah shrugged. “I’m feeling benevolent. Call it a last meal, if you’d like.” He stepped closer, his grin sharpening into something sinister, which was appropriate for a murderous mastermind, she supposed. “Furthermore, it won’t do if his senses are dulled. I want him to experience every second of his agonizing demise. It’s only fitting after the damage he’s caused.”

“Uh, okay,” she managed to choke out as she watched him stroll past with all the confidence of someone who had the world by the balls. He hadn’t yet disappeared from sight when she took off in the opposite direction, eager to find Caroline.

*****

“Whoa! Slow down, Elena. God, I feel like my head is spinning.” Caroline held up one hand while pressing the other to her temple. They were holed up in an unused storeroom whose walls had heard years’ worth of juicy gossip but nothing quite like the story spilling out of her stressed friend. “Let me try to get this straight. Stefan Salvatore is alive and being tortured by Klaus in his Dungeon of Doom, Elijah is the reason Lily and Giuseppe are dead, Damon’s going to be killed in less than twenty-four hours, and you’re seriously considering hiding him in the home of some stranger who’s pals with your drunk neighbor? Do you know how insane this all sounds?” she asked, her brows dancing up and down on her forehead.

“Believe me, Care, I know,” Elena sighed, already exhausted at the thought of all the obstacles that lie ahead.

“And you have to actually free him before you can whisk him away somewhere. How the hell are you planning on doing that?”

“Very carefully, but I’m gonna need some other witnesses. Elijah will be suspicious if you’re the only one around when it all goes down,” she pointed out.

“Who did you have in mind?”

“Tyler, for starters. Trouble sticks to him tighter than his shadow, so Elijah won’t be surprised if he’s involved somehow.” Elena paused as she went through her other options. “Anna, maybe? If she’s here tonight.”

“Okay. I can bring them with me,” Caroline agreed. “I’ll invent some job and claim I need their help with it. I’m good at stuff like that,” she said, offering her friend a small smile.

Elena didn’t share her positivity, a frown forming on her own lips. “I also need you to be my lookout. I have to pay Damon a visit before the main event, and if anyone catches me, it’s all over,” she explained.

Caroline’s response was slow in coming. “Elena, are you sure about this? If Klaus or Elijah find out what you’re up to . . .” She left the sentence hanging between them in a space already thick with worry.

“I know, but I can’t ignore it. What they’ve done is wrong on so many levels,” she murmured, her resolve set. “Just meet me outside Damon’s cell at 8. Oh, and Care?”

“Yeah?”

“Wish me luck.”

*****

At 8:07, Elena found herself standing in front of the cell containing a vampire who had been eager to kill her not that long ago. Maybe he still wanted to. Guess she’d find out soon enough.

Juggling the armload of chains she held, she nodded at Caroline, who was keeping watch by the stairs. Putting her memorization skills to work, she quickly punched in the series of numbers she’d seen Elijah use when he’d dragged her along for the last visit. The door clicked open, and she took a deep, though unnecessary, breath and stepped across the threshold.

Damon’s head snapped up when she entered, but she could tell the effort to stay alert was taxing. His skin was paler than normal, and dark circles were visible underneath his haunting eyes. He sagged in the shackles, letting them bear most of his weight. His wrists were a bloody mess, which told her he’d tried to escape his bonds, likely more than once.

His wary gaze landed on the chains she was carrying, and he straightened to his full height. “Isn’t that overkill?” he rasped, his voice rusty from lack of use.

She laid her burden at his feet before regarding him closely. “It’s not what you think. Look, I know you probably want to rip out my throat as payback for turning you in to Elijah, but I realize now that you were telling the truth about what happened to your parents,” Elena explained in a rush.

He was quiet for a while as he considered her words. When he finally broke the silence, he sounded genuinely curious. “What changed your mind?”

How much did she want to tell him? The whole story, or just enough so that he’d believe her? She settled on the condensed version: “I found proof that Elijah arranged the attack that led to their deaths,” she admitted.

“‘Bout time. So, what happens now?” he prompted when she said nothing more on the subject.

“I have a plan to get you out of here, but I need you to trust me,” she said in a voice that was only slightly louder than a whisper.

His eyes flared in surprise, but then a scowl slowly crept onto his features. “Why would I do that?”

“The truth behind what happened to your parents isn’t the only thing Elijah’s been hiding. Your brother is alive, Damon,” she murmured, hoping the reveal about Stefan’s fate would convince him that he could trust her.

“You’re lying,” he growled. “Stefan is dead. I know it, you know it, and Elijah sure as hell knows it. What part of ‘I saw his corpse with my own eyes’ did you not understand?”

“Then it must’ve been a trick,” she shot back. “You do know that witchcraft is a thing, right? A witch with enough power could easily transfer Stefan’s image onto the body of some rando. Ever consider that?”

He stared at her, remaining mute until she felt compelled to tell him more, which was undoubtedly his intention.

“Klaus is keeping him prisoner. I accidentally found him the other night when I was looking for the bastard’s wine cellar.”

“And you just left him there?” Damon accused, dark veins pulsing beneath his eyes at his angry outburst.

“I didn’t have a choice,” she bit off. “I was in Klaus’s house with Klaus in it. I couldn’t just stroll out the front door arm in arm with Stefan. I’ll go back for him. You, on the other hand, have a shorter shelf life if Elijah gets his way, or have you forgotten about that part?” she asked, hands on her hips.

He studied her for a long stretch of minutes that felt like hours, his lips compressed into a thin line as if judging whether or not her words and actions thus far had assured him of her good intentions. “Fine,” he conceded at last. “So what’s this marvelous plan you’ve cooked up?”

“You trust me?” She pulled a set of keys out of her pocket and dangled them in front of him.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” he muttered, echoing her earlier words.

“Try not to sound so happy about it. So, here’s what I’m going to do . . .”

*****

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tyler asked, glancing nervously at the door to Damon’s cell.

“Don’t be such a cupcake, Tyler,” Elena chided. “Besides, Elijah told me to do it. Would you say ‘no’ to him?”

“No, I guess not.” Even as he said it, he moved closer to Anna and Caroline as if seeking their protection.

“That’s what I thought.” She looked at each one of them in turn. “You three are going to be my backup. If you hear anything other than mild violence and verbal abuse, come give me a hand, will ya?” She almost cracked a smile but managed to resist the urge before she gave herself away. Boy, were they in for a show. Well, two of them, at least; Caroline knew what to really expect.

When they nodded in unison, Elena grabbed the cooler containing Damon’s “last meal,” once again entered the passcode to his cell, and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

“Time to eat!” she called out. “I didn’t bring the dinner bell with me. Oops.”

Even though he had a part to play in the charade she’d invented, he was still starving. The sight of the cooler brought forth his vampire visage, his eyes turning crimson and sharp fangs filling his mouth. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Elijah wanted you fed, so here I am.” She popped open the lid, grabbed a blood bag, and walked over to him. “Sorry, I forgot a straw,” she said with a mock pout.

“Enough with the chitchat. I’m fucking hungry,” Damon snarled.

“Behave, or you’ll get the bag marked ‘squirrel,’” she warned.

The ghost of a smile appeared on his face, a hint of fang visible between his parted lips. “Fine. I’ll play nice.”

With more consideration than she’d originally intended, she ripped off the corner of the bag using her own sharp teeth and raised it to his mouth. He greedily drank it down, his eyes heating with a secondary hunger she did her best to ignore. Feeding was tricky. It made vampires feel things. _Want_ things.

When he was finished, she tossed the empty bag in the cooler and took out another one. She repeated the process, but this time, she kept her eyes glued to a spot just above his head to avoid any overly intimate glances.

Once he’d drained every last drop of his meal, she met his gaze, all traces of humor gone. “Ready?” she mouthed, not wanting Tyler and Anna to pick up on the ruse.

He nodded as his fingers curled around the chains that anchored him to the wall. Not for much longer.

Elena’s mouth started moving again, and she found herself hoping he was a decent lip reader. “Make it look good.” She then gestured behind her to indicate her comrades in the hallway. “Don’t kill them. Please,” she added.

Damon started to roll his eyes but thought better of it when she aimed a kick at his shin. “Okay, okay,” he muttered in a voice just loud enough for her to hear, then he continued at a normal volume. “That was good, but I’m craving something a bit warmer. Something straight from the source, if you catch my drift.”

“Sorry, but you’re outta luck. That’s all you get,” she replied, going along with the scheme they’d devised earlier.

“Actually, sweetheart, you’re the one whose luck has run out.” He gave the chains a vicious yank using his recharged strength, snapping them in half. In the space of a second, he had one arm locked around her waist while he tugged her jacket off her shoulder, exposing her now-vulnerable throat. He dipped his head, the tips of his fangs scratching against the sensitive skin of her neck, and she tensed, her mind flashing back to the last time he’d bitten her and the agony that had followed.

“Relax,” he whispered before his teeth sank deep. There was a sharp sting, but the pain wasn’t nearly as intense. That didn’t stop her from letting out a scream designed to make the others think he was brutalizing her. He pulled back almost immediately and used his fingers to smear the blood from the seeping wound onto the area surrounding the bite, making it appear more severe than it was.

“Still delicious,” he murmured as he licked the digits clean. The door burst open behind them, and Elena sent him one last look, imploring him not to do serious damage to her companions. He let her sink to the ground as he faced off with the first hunter, Caroline the Dom Pérignon Destroyer.

The pretty blonde aimed a tranq gun at him, but he sped forward and knocked it out of her grasp. He then sent her careening into a wall, and she slumped to the floor, likely playing possum at her friend’s request.

The next one to come at him was a petite spitfire he recognized as Pearl’s beloved daughter, Anna. He easily dodged the stake she launched at him and caught her in a chokehold, applying more and more pressure until he heard the telltale snap. He dropped her body and glanced back at Elena, who was slowly getting to her feet.

“Go,” she mouthed. “I’ll meet you as soon as I can.”

Out in the hallway, he discovered the last member of Elena’s backup squad, a male vampire with a case of the jitters who looked to be on the verge of pissing himself. When Damon advanced on him, he raised a crossbow with shaky hands.

“Don’t come any closer, man. I’ll put one of these arrows right through your heart.”

“Yeah, right. More like through your own foot,” Damon taunted. He zipped forward until the tip of the arrow was poking him in the chest. “Boo.”

The guy’s eyes widened in terror, and the crossbow clattered to the floor as he took off like his ass was on fire. Once he’d disappeared up the stairs, Damon made his way toward the exit. “I’m guessing Braveheart won’t be back for round two,” he snickered.

He pushed open the back door and scented the air, enjoying his first taste of freedom. He’d wait for Elena in the alley she’d chosen as their rendezvous point, and then they’d proceed with step two of her plan. He didn’t know where this ride would take him, but he was game for whatever was next, especially if it led to the Mikaelsons’ downfall.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

“Elena! Are you okay?”

Caroline was at her side the minute Damon left, brushing Elena’s hair back so she could inspect the wound on her neck.

“I’m fine, Care. That was a love bite compared to the last one.”

“Why is there so much blood?” she asked, showing Elena her fingers, which were now stained red.

“It’s just for show. He was embracing his inner artist,” she explained in an effort to soothe her friend’s nerves. She knelt down to check on Anna before gesturing toward the hallway. “What happened to Tyler?”

Caroline ran out to do a quick sweep of the hall and returned after a few moments, a sour look on her face. “His body’s not there. Either Damon ate him, bones and all, or the big baby took off and is probably calling Elijah as we speak.”

Just then, the door to the stairwell crashed open and two sets of footsteps descended at a hurried pace.

“Or he already did, and Elijah’s here. With your boyfriend. Yay,” Elena muttered. She grabbed the duffel she’d left outside the cell and began strapping weapons onto her body. Knife around the thigh, check. Gun at the small of her back, check. Crossbow in her hands and ready to use, check.

She’d barely finished her task when Elijah was upon them, Klaus trailing a short distance behind.

“What happened?” he demanded. He didn’t shout; it wasn’t his style. Elijah was at his most deadly when his voice was quiet, calm. Controlled.

Klaus stopped beside him and peered into the now-empty cell. “Bloody fucking brilliant. The bastard’s gone. I guess the mighty huntress isn’t so mighty after all,” he snarled, glaring at Elena.

“Niklaus, be quiet. Elena, tell me everything.”

She set down the crossbow but kept it close in case Klaus did anything stupid. She doubted he would cause trouble while his brother was present, but one never knew when he would lose it and snap. “I came down here to feed Damon, just like you asked. Tyler, Caroline, and Anna joined me on the off chance that things got out of hand. Everything was fine until after he’d finished the bags. He said he wanted fresh blood, then he broke the chains and attacked me.” She paused to show Elijah the spot where he’d bitten her. The punctures had healed, but the drying blood remained as evidence. “After he was done chewing on me, he knocked out Caroline, broke Anna’s neck, and took off. I guess Tyler’s impressive screaming wasn’t enough to stop him.” She bent to retrieve the weapon at her feet. “Now, I’m going after his ass.”

Elijah held up a hand. “Just a moment, if you don’t mind. I distinctly recall Damon’s restraints being spelled. How is it possible that he escaped them?”

She shrugged. “How the hell would I know? Maybe he’s the vampire version of the Hulk, or maybe Tyler used the wrong chains when he locked him up.”

If throwing Tyler under the bus was the price she had to pay to pull this off, she’d gladly do it. Elijah would take her word over his any day. Her boss didn’t need to know that she’d swapped the chains herself when she’d visited Damon earlier that evening.

A soft groan reached their ears, and Caroline rushed over to Anna and helped her up. When the two of them joined the group in the hall, Anna was rubbing her sore neck. Elena winced in sympathy.

“Anna,” Elijah greeted her. “I’m glad to see you weren’t seriously harmed.” He glanced at Elena for a moment before continuing. “When you and Tyler brought Damon to his cell, do you recall if Tyler tested the chains to make sure he’d chosen the correct ones to use?”

She considered his question and then gave a slight shake of her head. “No, I don’t. He seemed pretty confident, but mistakes can happen, I guess.”

“Indeed. Caroline, would you be so good as to take Anna upstairs while I speak with Elena?”

“Of course.” Caroline shot her friend a concerned look and headed for the stairs with the young trainee in tow.

When they were out of sight, Elijah refocused his attention on Elena. “What are you planning to do?”

“Track him down. Drag him back here. Y’know, all the things I should be doing right now instead of letting him get farther away than he already has.”

“Perhaps I should accompany Elena in case she’s in need of assistance?” Klaus inquired, inserting himself into the conversation.

She didn’t wait for Elijah to respond. “No, thanks. I did it once without your help, and I’ll do it again.”

Brushing past them, she didn’t miss the way Klaus’s hands curled into fists. She felt a small smile creep onto her face as she jogged toward the stairs. She had almost reached the top when Elijah called out to her.

“Be sure to keep me informed of your progress!”

“Will do,” she answered. _Don’t wait up!_

*****

Damon leaned against a wall in the deserted alley while he waited for Elena, the rough bricks digging into his back. As the minutes ticked past, he tried to imagine how she was going to explain this one to Elijah. She was a sly one though, his huntress. If anyone could talk her way—

_Wait a second._ His? _Where the hell had that come from?_

Before he could examine it further, the _click-click-click_ of heeled boots announced Elena’s arrival. She appeared moments later, dressed like she was prepared for war, a loaded crossbow held at her side. She glanced at him briefly before checking the street to make sure she hadn’t been followed. “Ready to go?” she whispered.

Unable to resist, he inched up behind her and put his mouth by her ear. “Ready when you are.”

If the crossbow bolt he suddenly found biting into his chest was any indication, she wasn’t amused. He took a step back, picking at the small hole the weapon had left in his shirt. “Sheesh. A little riled, are we?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” she asked with a roll of her eyes. “Could it be the fact that I just lied to my boss’s face, pinned the blame for your escape on another hunter, and am currently standing in front of someone who tried to kill me in the not-so-distant past?”

“Hey, you weren’t exactly gentle with me either,” he griped, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Get over yourself. I was never going to kill you.”

“No, you just served me up to Elijah on a silver platter so he could do the deed himself.”

She held up her hands to ward off any further bickering. “Enough. Klaus is livid, and he’s probably out here somewhere snooping around, trying to find you himself. We need to go. Now,” she added.

He sighed but let the argument drop. “Lead the way, O Fearless One.”

*****

Elena checked the address against the one Ric had given her and found it to be a match. “Looks like this is the place,” she informed Damon as they both stared at the house in front of them. It was larger than the others on the block, making it stick out. It had a welcoming vibe, the siding a cheery light blue with white shutters framing the windows. The front porch was adorned with flower pots and smaller dishes containing what appeared to be a variety of herbs.

Damon poked at a massive sunflower before Elena swatted his hand away. “This isn’t really my style,” he groused. “Can’t we go back to your place?”

“Definitely not,” Elena snapped.

He chuckled at her flustered response. “Relax, princess. I’m not trying to get in your pants.” He gestured around them. “This is just a little . . . much.”

“You’re going to have to deal with it. We don’t have any other options.” Ignoring his whining, she stepped forward and rang the doorbell. Moments later, the door opened to reveal a young woman with short brown hair, a kind face, and striking green eyes that spoke of wisdom beyond her years. Elena stuck out a hand as she introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Elena Gilbert, a friend of Alaric Saltzman’s. I need a place for my, er, friend to stay, and Ric said you might be able to help.”

The woman gave Elena’s hand a firm shake and studied her for a minute before nodding in understanding. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Bonnie Bennett. Alaric said you might drop by. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Damon Salvatore,” Elena said, gesturing toward the surly vampire lingering on the edge of the porch with a wary look on his too-handsome face. When he refused to move, she scowled and jerked her head in Bonnie’s direction, mouthing, “Don’t be rude.”

He reluctantly came forward, giving the impression that each step caused him physical pain. Once he was close enough, he offered his hand to Bonnie with a gruff “Hey.”

Surprisingly, Bonnie didn’t hesitate, grasping Damon’s hand much the same way she had Elena’s. Considering she ran a safe house, she was probably used to encountering some unusual characters, Elena supposed. She watched the interaction closely, more for Bonnie’s safety than anything else, and she noticed when a strange expression flitted over the woman’s face, her friendly smile vanishing. She abruptly released Damon’s hand and retreated back over the threshold.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” she said in a voice devoid of all warmth. “You need to leave.”

“What’s going—” Elena started to ask, but Damon cut her off.

“She’s a witch,” he growled.

“Keep your voice down,” Bonnie hissed. “I don’t want to advertise it to the world.”

“Whoa, everyone chill for a second.” Elena nudged Damon away from the door before things got violent. “You touched me, too,” she said, turning her attention back to Bonnie. “Why didn’t you react that way to me?”

“I saw the things he’s done, the darkness inside of him. With you, I could sense that you’re a protector, and you fight to maintain order among your kind,” Bonnie explained.

“There’s more to it than that. I know it looks rough as far as Damon is concerned, but it’s . . . complicated. Please let him stay here. You’re our only hope.” She paused, desperately searching for something to tell Bonnie that would appeal to her desire to help people. “If he’s captured again, he and his brother will be killed. They’re being targeted by other vampires who want to steal their family’s power and position. Their parents were murdered a few years ago, and I’m trying to save them from the same fate.”

The young woman stood quietly as she considered Elena’s plea. Finally, she sighed, closing her eyes while she rubbed her temples. “I must be insane. Alaric’s going to owe me for this one,” she muttered. “You can stay, but on one condition.”

“Anything,” Elena agreed, relieved the witch had reconsidered.

“You have to stay with him.”

“Sure, that’s no . . . wait. Oh, no. No. I have a place, which I need to get back to, incidentally.” She could’ve sworn she heard Damon chuckle behind her, and it took every ounce of her self-control not to punch him.

Bonnie shrugged. “Sorry, but that’s the deal. I don’t trust him not to snack on my guests, so it’s going to be your job to keep watch of him.”

“But I already have a job.” Great, now she was being the whiny one. She could tell Bonnie wouldn’t be swayed again, so the only solution was to give in. “Dammit. Alright, fine, but there had better be separate beds.”

“I think you’ll find the arrangements comfortable,” Bonnie said with a mischievous smile. “C’mon in.”

Laughter erupted from Damon, and this time, Elena whirled around and smacked him in the arm before turning to follow Bonnie into the house, grumbling the entire way.

*****

“There’s only one. You’ve got to be kidding me.” Elena stared at the bed in dismay, hoping it would magically split into two. When that didn’t happen, she eyed a chair situated by the window. It wouldn’t be anywhere near comfortable, but she could manage.

Damon strolled past her and flopped down on top of the coverlet. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. There’s plenty of room for both of us.” He patted the other side of the bed in an invitation to join him.

“Thanks, but I’ll take the chair. You can have the bed,” Elena said, edging toward the overstuffed recliner.

“I never pinned you for a prude,” he commented, rearranging the pillows and reclining against them.

“That’s because I’m not,” she snapped, “but we sure as hell haven’t reached the ‘bed buddies’ stage of whatever dysfunctional relationship is going on here.”

He opened his mouth to fire back, but she raised a finger to her lips. “Quiet. I have to update Elijah before he sends out the cavalry.”

“Give him my love,” he answered with a saucy grin.

She turned her back on the smartass vampire and pulled out her phone, quickly dialing her boss’s number. He answered on the second ring, and she bluffed her way through the barrage of questions he threw at her. “No, nothing yet. It might take a few days to track him down. He could be anywhere by now.” Pause. “Yes, I’ll let you know as soon I have him.” Pause. “No, I’ll handle it.” Pause. “Will do. Bye.” She ended the call and tucked the phone back in her pocket.

“Well, that sounded like an interesting chat,” Damon drawled.

“Pretty much. I’m gonna see if Bonnie has any clothes I can borrow, and then I’m going to take a quick shower. You need anything before I go?”

He cocked a brow, and she held up a hand to ward off whatever lascivious thought had crossed his mind. “Forget I asked. Don’t leave this room. If you do, I’ll give Bonnie permission to zap your ass.”

Damon made a shooing motion before settling deeper into the bed. “Go enjoy your shower. I’ll just be here, fantasizing about you being all wet and—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She flew out of the room, letting the door close with a resounding bang. If this was what she’d have to deal with until the whole mess was over, it was going to be a bumpy ride.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

Elena woke slowly, the way one does when coming to after a deep, restful sleep. She stretched, twisting around until each of the vertebrae in her back gave a satisfying pop. She snuggled into the soft bedding, enjoying the feel of the sheets on her skin—

_Wait a minute._

Her lids snapped open as a flare of panic ripped through her. She sat up and glanced around, startled to find Damon in the chair by the window, watching her with those unnerving blue eyes.

She ran a hand through her hair and let out a sigh of relief, grateful he hadn’t taken off while she’d been snoozing. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s not polite to stare?”

“Good morning to you, too, Sunshine,” he greeted her with a lazy smile.

“Um, yeah. I definitely don’t remember climbing into this bed last night,” she said, frowning in confusion.

“That’s because you didn’t. I dozed off for a while, and when I woke up, you looked absolutely miserable, curled up like some kind of contortionist. I decided to switch places with you.” His lips twitched as he noticed her peeking under the sheets to make sure she was still fully clothed. “Don’t worry. I didn’t cop a feel. I was a perfect gentleman.”

“Impressive. Thanks for, uh, letting me catch some zees,” she said, trying not to be awkward about the whole thing and failing miserably.

“No problem.” He stood and stretched, looking none the worse for wear after spending most of the night in the chair. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a shower and some breakfast?”

Elena tossed back the blankets and reluctantly crawled out of bed. “Bathroom’s down the hall, last door on the right. I’ll grab some fresh clothes for you. Unfortunately, breakfast is going to have to wait. I need to make a few calls before I stop by my place and stock up on blood bags.”

He nodded and headed out into the hall, Elena following to make sure he didn’t take a detour to someone’s room for a pre-breakfast snack. When he disappeared into the bathroom, she picked a spot where she could keep an eye on the door and flipped through the contacts on her phone until Ric’s name came up. She dialed his number and counted the rings as an indication of how bad today’s hangover might be. One to two rings? All was well. Nine to ten rings? Rough sailing. No answer? Call an ambulance.

He picked up on the fourth ring, sounding groggy but not totally incoherent. Not bad for 8:30, all things considered.

“‘Lo?” came the gruff greeting.

“Ric, it’s me. I need to ask for a huge favor.”

“This early? S’wrong?” he asked, automatically assuming the worst.

“Nothing. I wanted to thank you for giving me Bonnie’s address. I brought my friend to her place last night, and I was wondering if you could keep him company for a little while so I can run some errands. He’s a bit of a flight risk,” she explained, stretching the truth slightly to suit her needs.

“Ah. Well, since you asked so nicely, I s’pose I can do that.” There was rustling in the background, suggesting that he was trying to drag himself out of bed. “What time do you need me to be there?”

“Is an hour too soon?”

“Nope. I’ll just hit the shower, and then I’ll be over.”

“You’re a life saver, Ric. I owe you one.”

A rusty laugh came over the line. “I’ll hold you to it. So, what’s he like? Should I bring anything?”

She paused as she contemplated which words to use to describe Damon. “He’s . . . kind of a mystery. I’d bring something in a paper bag, if you catch my drift,” she hinted. “And you should probably take a cab. If you two hit it off, I might be pouring you back into one to get you home.”

He chuckled again. “A day drinker, huh? Sounds like my kind of guy.”

Elena was so absorbed in the conversation that she completely missed Damon stepping out of the bathroom. When a pair of bare legs entered her field of vision, she let her gaze travel upward until it landed on the towel knotted around his waist. Actually, “towel” was a generous term, she mused; the thing was only slightly larger than a dinner napkin.

She almost dropped the phone as she scrambled to her feet. “Jesus, Damon! Get in there before someone sees you,” she ordered, gesturing toward their room.

“Everything okay?” Alaric asked in amusement.

“Just peachy. I’ll see you soon. Thanks again, Ric.”

She ended the call and glared at the smirking, shameless, gorgeous asshole dripping water on the carpet in front of her.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who was supposed to bring me clothes. This was all I could find,” he said, indicating the scrap of fabric barely concealing his naughty bits.

“Shit, the clothes. I forgot. Wait for me in the room, and I’ll be back in a second.”

She hurried down the hall, Damon’s voice trailing after her. “You can’t say you didn’t appreciate the view.”

“Don’t push it!” As she went in search of Bonnie, she couldn’t help but wonder if the lady of the house had any clothing in storage from bygone eras. She snickered to herself as she pictured Damon in a leisure suit and platform shoes. That would shut him up.

*****

Sadly, she discovered that Bonnie only kept modern clothes on hand. It made sense, but it ruined Elena’s revenge fantasy. No polka dots, no neon colors, no loud patterns. Instead, she’d given her a pair of dark jeans and a plain black t-shirt, both of which perfectly suited Damon. All that was missing was a leather jacket.

Reentering their room, she found him lying on the bed once more, the towel flirting with the tops of his thighs. She tossed the clothes at him and turned around in order to avoid the show that was sure to come. Only when she heard the rasp of a zipper being tugged up did she face him again.

While his bottom half was covered, he remained bare chested, fiddling with the shirt but not making any moves to pull it on. “No underwear?” he asked, directing her attention to the snug denim resting low on his hips.

“Oh, uh, I guess Bon—” Elena started to explain, but Damon cut her off.

“Eh, it’s fine. I’m more of a commando guy anyway. The look on your face was priceless though.” He grinned, pleased at his ability to fluster her.

“Why are you being like this?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“ _This_ ,” she said, gesturing toward his half-clad form. “The innuendos, the near nudity, the bedroom eyes. Less than twenty-four hours ago, you were bitching at me for handing you over to Elijah, and now you’re trying to what? Seduce me?”

He shrugged, his smile fading. “I was attempting to lighten the mood.”

Elena’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “And you thought a Strip-O-Gram would be the best way to do that?”

He raked his fingers through his damp hair, leaving the dark strands in wild disarray. “I’m trying to distract myself and pretend that everything hasn’t gone to shit. If I start taking things as seriously as you do, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.” He dropped into the chair, the springs creaking under his weight. “My brother could be dead by now for all we know, and it’s my fault,” he finished in a voice that had gone unnaturally quiet.

Sympathy stirred to life within her. “I’ll get him out, Damon. I already told you I would.”

“Yeah, if Elijah and his dickhead brother haven’t already offed him,” he muttered.

“I highly doubt it. Their revenge game has been a slow burn. Besides, I have a plan.” That last part wasn’t the exact truth, nor was it a complete lie. She had a few ideas; she just needed to talk with Caroline before putting any of them into motion.

She opened her mouth to explain further when she was interrupted by a knock at the door. Damon’s eyes narrowed as he rose from the chair and started forward to answer it. She intercepted him, placing a hand on his chest before yanking it away as if she’d been burned.

“It’s a friend of mine,” she said in a rush, trying to gloss over the fact that she’d touched him. “He knows nothing about vampires, witches, or any other supernatural bullshit, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’d also appreciate it if you let him remain in one piece while I’m gone.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he growled, advancing on her until he had her cornered, her back flush against the wall. “Are you sure you want to leave me here with a defenseless human?” His tone had a silky, innocuous quality to it, but she detected something much darker creeping just below the surface.

Ignoring the chill that skittered down her spine, she pushed him away. “Knock it off. I won’t be long. I think you can control yourself until I get back.” An idea popped into her head, and she stopped with her hand on the knob. “What’s your favorite drink?” she called over her shoulder.

“Is that a trick question?” came the dubious response.

“I meant alcohol, you ass.”

“Bourbon. Why?”

“Oh, I think you’ll be just fine.”

*****

“Alaric, this is Damon. Damon, Alaric.” Introductions complete, Elena stepped back, leaving Damon to study the man standing in front of him. He held a paper sack tucked close to his chest as if it contained the most precious substance in the world, and Damon supposed it did. _One_ of the most precious, anyway.

While the man offered up his hand for a shake, Damon took in the faded jeans, plaid button down over a simple gray t-shirt, and the few days’ worth of beard growth the guy was sporting. He had a friendly face, but his eyes revealed echoes of a less-than-pleasant past. Seemed harmless enough.

Damon pumped Alaric’s hand a couple times and gestured to the recliner/spare bed. “Have a seat if you want.”

“Thanks.”

As Alaric settled himself in the chair, Damon glanced at Elena, who was out in the hall with Bonnie the Good Witch. They were speaking softly to each other, but Damon still heard most of the conversation. She’d asked Bonnie to listen in on the two of them every so often to make sure Alaric could still be counted among the living. Apparently, his warrior princess still didn’t trust him to behave.

Elena turned to leave and caught Damon watching her. She pointed at Alaric, her mouth working and her hands fluttering through the air as she mimed a message to him. His charades skills were a little rusty, so she was either trying to tell him not to dance the Tango in a hula skirt, or not to hurt her friend. If he had to guess, he’d assume it was the latter.

He gave her a thumbs-up and closed the door on Bonnie’s suspicious glare and Elena’s reassuring-but-slightly-worried goodbye wave to Alaric. He traipsed over to the bed and sat on the edge, suddenly very interested in the brown bag sitting on the floor by Alaric’s feet.

“Whatcha got there?” he asked.

“Just some mid-morning liquid courage,” Alaric answered, pulling a bourbon bottle from the sack. “Although I probably should have brought the makings for Bloody Marys instead.”

_Don’t tempt me_ , Damon mused, briefly fantasizing about the literal, vampire version of the popular drink. His mood lightened when he caught a glimpse of the bottle’s label, revealing it to be one of his favorite brands of bourbon. “Nah, this works for me.”

He was about to go hunt down a couple of glasses when Alaric pulled a pair from the bag and set them on the end table beside him. “You really came prepared,” Damon commented, impressed by the man’s attention to detail.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Alaric chuckled while cracking open the bottle and filling each glass with a healthy dose of the amber liquid. He handed one to Damon and clinked their glasses together. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Damon tossed his back, enjoying the way it burned as it slid down his throat.

There was a moment of awkward silence until Alaric poured himself a generous refill and tilted the bottle in Damon’s direction. “More?”

“Please.”

After taking a sip, Alaric stared out the window as if seeking an appropriate topic of conversation other than the usual, mundane fare— _Great weather we’re having, huh? How ‘bout those Yankees?_ He finally turned back to Damon, idly swirling the remaining liquor in his glass.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

Damon polished off his second glass with an audible swallow, trying to hide the smile that had crept onto his face at the seemingly innocent question. He couldn’t very well give “vampire politics” as his answer. “I guess you could say I work in government,” he conceded.

Alaric’s eyes widened in a comical way. “Oh, wow. I’ll refrain from asking why you’re hiding out in a safe house then.”

“Probably a good idea,” Damon admitted with a laugh. “What about you? What’s your deal?”

“I wish I could say ‘rocket scientist’ or ‘professional skydiver,’ but the sad truth is I’m an accountant,” he revealed, shooting Damon a wry smile. “Hard to believe, I know.”

“Hey, whatever pays the bills, man.” Damon noticed the lack of a ring on his hand. “Any significant other? Kids? Or are you enjoying the single life?”

Alaric hesitated, and a look of hurt briefly flashed across his face that reminded Damon of the pain he’d seen in his eyes when he’d given him a onceover earlier. “No, no kids. There was someone once, but it didn’t work out.” In a clear bid to change the subject, he asked, “How do you know Elena?”

_Funny you should ask._ “We met . . . through work.”

“Huh. I have no idea what she does, to be honest. From what I gather, it’s pretty stressful.”

“Yeah, it’s a doozy,” Damon hedged. He reached for the bourbon, more interested in thirds than discussing how _he_ had been Elena’s latest assignment.

“How long have you been friends?” Alaric asked, sliding over his glass for another refill.

“We’re more like casual acquaintances, actually. I met her a couple years ago.”

“Must be less casual than you think if she’s willing to help you out like this.”

Was he imagining things or was there a note of protectiveness in Alaric’s voice whenever he spoke about Elena? “So it would seem,” Damon murmured. He gulped down #3 and began pouring #4 as he wondered how long Elena’s excursion was going to take. Alaric’s questions were starting to make him sweat, and not in a good way.

*****

Elena slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and wedged the cooler between her hip and the doorframe while she twisted the knob and opened the way into the room. Bonnie had given her a report of “all clear,” so she assumed Damon and Alaric had gotten on relatively well with each other.

The first thing she noticed upon entering was Alaric snoring softly in the chair, an empty bourbon bottle on the table beside him. Her eyes wandered to Damon where he was perched on the bed. He didn’t look nearly as relaxed as Ric, drumming his fingers against his leg in an uneven rhythm.

“Hey,” she called to him. “Everything go okay?”

“Yep,” he answered without looking at her. His gaze was locked on the cooler she held.

“You sure ‘bout that? You’re being unusually quiet.”

“I’m hungry,” he growled, dark veins snaking across his cheeks before he regained control of himself.

The harsh noise startled Alaric awake, and he slowly sat up, glancing around as he tried to figure out what had woken him.

“Sorry,” Damon muttered.

Alaric waved off the apology. “Didn’t mean to nod off on you,” he said, rubbing his eyes as he rose from the chair. “Oh, hey, Elena. You just get back?”

“Yeah. Thanks again for keeping Damon company. If you’re ready to go, I called a cab, and it should be here in a few minutes.” She didn’t want to push him out the door, but Damon’s crankiness was only going to get worse, and they couldn’t very well feed with Ric around.

“Sure. It was great meeting you, Damon. If you’re ever in the market for a drinking buddy, just give me a call.”

Damon mumbled something indecipherable in response, but thankfully, Alaric was oblivious to the increasingly agitated vampire.

“Bye, ‘Lena. Let me know if you need anything else.” Her slightly tipsy friend hugged her and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Another growl erupted behind her, and Elena quickly ushered Ric into the hall before Damon took a bite out of him.

*****

Once Alaric was safely on his way home, she confronted Damon about the aggression that still clung to him like a second skin. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m starving,” he snapped.

“You _growled_ at him,” she emphasized. “And you shouldn’t be that ravenous. You fed well yesterday.”

“Yeah, after going days without so much as a fucking taste. I overreacted. That’s all.”

He was already pawing through the cooler, so she let it drop. Something was bothering him other than his empty stomach, but she didn’t want to dig too deeply right at the moment. Besides, they were stuck together for the foreseeable future; it was bound to come out sooner or later.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

“Want more? There’s one bag left in the cooler.” Elena offered up the last of their blood supply, but Damon shook his head.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“Alright. I’ll pick up more tomorrow.” She pushed the cooler aside and reached for the brown paper bag on the table. “Special delivery from Ric,” she explained, pulling the bottle out and spinning it around so he could see the label. “He didn’t want us to go without.”

“Nice. I could get used to this.”

Damon was lying on the bed, dressed in a black tank top and jeans, his bare feet crossed at the ankles. They’d settled into a routine over the past two days, and Elena had discovered that as long as there was enough blood and bourbon, he stayed satisfied. She kept herself busy planning Stefan’s escape, checking with Caroline for updates on any rumors that might be circulating at HQ, and calling Elijah to tell him whatever she thought he wanted to hear.

_“No luck yet, but a couple bodies turned up. He might be on his way back to Mystic Falls. I’ll head there in a few days if the trail goes cold.”_

He seemed pleased with her fabricated efforts to recapture Damon, so she left it at that. If Caroline reported that he was starting to get itchy, she’d come up with a new tactic.

Elena cracked open the bottle and filled her glass. “This is probably a stupid question, but do you want some?” she asked, tilting it in Damon’s direction.

“The stupidest,” he confirmed. “Of course I do.” She passed him a glass, and he took a sip, his eyes never leaving her. That was his favorite hobby: Elena watching. Whenever she looked up, he was staring at her. Sometimes, she found the sheer intensity of it unsettling. Other times, it made her heart pound and sent her blood racing through her veins. “I never pictured you as a bourbon drinker,” he commented.

“Blame Alaric. It’s all he drinks.”

“Hmm. You spend a lot of time with him?” he asked.

She bristled at the suspicion in his voice. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re friends. I hang out with him when I need to unwind.” He scowled, and she threw the bottle cap at him. He caught it, the surly look remaining on his face. “Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s not like that.”

“If you say so.” He didn’t sound convinced, but she wasn’t going to argue with him. His gaze continued to track her every movement until she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“No. Why?”

“You’re staring at me. Constantly. It’s making me twitchy,” she confessed.

He shrugged. “What am I supposed to do? Stare out the window all day? You’re the only thing worth looking at.”

_Ooookay._ Heat blossomed beneath her skin at his admission. How the hell did she respond to that? “Uh . . .”

He nursed his bourbon, finally breaking eye contact for a few blessed moments. “Since you know all about me and my family, why don’t you tell me something about you? You’re as much of a mystery to me now as you were when we first came here.”

She had to hand it to him—he was good at diffusing awkward situations. “We haven’t even been here a week, Damon. You make it sound like it’s been years.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

Probing blue eyes bored into hers again, and she sighed in defeat. “There’s not a whole lot to tell.”

“Humor me. Any family?”

“My parents died when I was young. No siblings. I’ve been on my own for as long as I can remember,” she revealed.

“How’d you fall in with Elijah and his merry band of hunters?”

“I met him five years ago. I was fighting a feral vampire when he found me. Said I had potential and offered me a job. I took him up on it because I thought it would be a way to do something worthwhile. Fight the good fight and all that. I didn’t go into it knowing what his master plan was, if that’s what you’re trying to pry out of me,” she countered.

“It’s not,” Damon muttered. “Since when is curiosity a crime?” he asked with a lift of his brow.

“Sorry. I’m just not big on discussing my life.” Elena didn’t realize she was pacing like a caged animal until Damon crooked a finger at her. “What?”

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the carpet, which I’m sure Bonnie won’t appreciate. Take a load off.” She started toward the chair, but he patted the empty spot beside him on the bed. “Oh, c’mon. I won’t bite. This time,” he clarified with a grin.

“How reassuring,” she deadpanned, reluctantly taking him up on his offer. She settled on the edge furthest from him, one leg dangling off the side.

“That looks comfortable. Half your ass is hanging in mid-air.” He tugged on her belt loop until all of her was resting on the bed. “There. Better?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she murmured.

They laid there drinking in companionable silence until she felt her lids droop. She briefly considered hopping into the chair and leaving him the bed, but she was too sleepy to move. Setting her glass on the table, she nestled deeper into the pillows and closed her eyes. She didn’t hear Damon turn out the light, nor did she feel him pull the blanket over her.

*****

The cell door burst open with such force that the hinges almost tore away from the wall. Before Stefan could draw a breath, Klaus was in his face, his mouth pulled down in a vicious frown and the promise of violence in his wild eyes.

“Damon’s been loose for more than forty-eight hours, and still Elijah refuses to let me hunt him,” he roared. “Do you have any idea how that feels? To know that your brother trusts his _pet_ more than his own flesh and blood?” When Stefan stayed mute, Klaus grabbed his chin in a brutal grip. “ _Well?_ ”

“No,” he whispered. “I don’t.”

“Of course not. Damon’s such a _good_ brother, isn’t he?” he spat. Releasing Stefan, he stalked over to an old wooden chest tucked away in the corner and lifted the lid, intently perusing its contents. “It must be comforting knowing that he’s frolicking about while you’re being tortured to within an inch of your life.” He selected an object from the chest and approached his prisoner once more, revealing his weapon of choice.

“He thinks I’m dead. You made sure of that,” Stefan pointed out in a dull voice. He cringed at the sight of the whip’s long tail where it was looped around Klaus’s hand. It was no use trying to protest; his struggles and pleas only increased the bastard’s excitement. He warily looked on as Klaus took a small vial from his jacket pocket and removed the stopper, carefully sprinkling its contents onto the leather.

Fresh vervain.

Stefan refused to react, focusing instead on bracing himself for the impending beating. The effort became more difficult when Klaus shook the excess vervain from the whip, droplets peppering Stefan’s chest, face, and arms until he hissed in pain. “What if he knew you were still alive? Do you think he’d rescue you?” Klaus taunted. “Maybe he’s happier without you.”

“You must really enjoy the sound of your own voice. If you’re gonna torture me, get on with it. Don’t talk me to death,” Stefan snarled.

“So you say, but let’s see how long it takes before you’re begging me to stop.” Klaus stepped closer, his lips brushing Stefan’s ear. “Every time the lash tears into your skin and the agonizing burn of the vervain drives you closer and closer to madness, I want you to think of your brother as he revels in a world in which Stefan Salvatore no longer exists.”

Klaus let the words sink in for a moment before he drew back his arm and snapped the whip, landing a blow across Stefan’s torso. His captive jerked, gritting his teeth as blood oozed from the gash, and Klaus amused himself by pondering how many strokes it would take before the younger vampire’s wounds left him completely broken.

*****

Elena woke to the mingled aromas of bacon, bourbon, and the woodsy-smelling soap Damon had been using in the shower. She took a deep breath, savoring the unusual combination. A soft exhale followed by the sensation of bare skin brushing against her arm roused her the rest of the way. She cracked open an eye to discover Damon’s face a whisper away from hers, his head lying half on his pillow and half on hers, their lips nearly close enough to touch.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to avoid making herself cross-eyed while she studied the sleeping vampire. It was unusual to see him so vulnerable, the snarky comments and cynicism he wielded like weapons temporarily sheathed.

Long, dark lashes stood out against his pale skin, his cheeks roughened by a few days’ worth of stubble. The urge to reach out and comb her fingers through his disheveled hair struck her in its unexpectedness.

_I don’t even really know him, but in some ways, I feel like I do . . ._

“Ogling me while I’m sleeping?” Damon’s raspy voice interrupted her mental debate.

“Hey, fair is fair. Your eyes are glued to me at least eighteen hours a day,” she pointed out.

As if on cue, said eyes snapped open, his pupils shrinking in the morning light until they became tiny specs in a sea of blue. “Touché.” He brushed a finger down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “You stayed. I half expected to find you asleep in the bathtub or some shit.”

She rubbed her arm in an attempt to soothe the not-unwelcome sensation his touch had created. “The bed was too comfortable.”

“Mmhmm.”

Eager to derail his wayward train of thought, she quickly changed the subject. “You asked questions yesterday, so now it’s my turn.”

“Really?” he said with a sigh. “You already dug up all the dirt on me, remember?”

“Not all of it.” She hesitated before starting off with something that had been bothering her since Elijah had first filled her in on the situation. “After Stefan was taken, why didn’t you just assume your family’s power and deal with Elijah and Klaus that way instead of going on a killing spree?”

“Wow. Couldn’t pick an easier one?” he griped. When she continued to stare at him in silence, he rolled his eyes. “Fine. I considered it, but that would’ve taken too long. I didn’t have the patience for all that formal bullshit.”

“So you chose murder instead.”

“I wasn’t joking that day you found me, Elena. Those weren’t innocents. They were people who’d gotten away with things they shouldn’t have gotten away with. Elijah never bothered checking into their backgrounds, or maybe he did but just ignored it because it didn’t suit his agenda,” he explained.

“You had an easy enough time attacking me,” she muttered.

“I was trying to draw them out. I expected Elijah and Klaus to show up, not you. Truth be told, my mind was a little fucked up at that point. Everyone associated with the Mikaelsons and their self-righteous façade was considered fair game.”

“Huh” was the only response she could muster. She was surprised and slightly thrown by his honesty.

“Happy now?” he asked, a single brow arched as if daring her to find fault with his story.

“I’m not happy about any of it, Damon—what happened to your parents, to you and Stefan, and finding out that it all leads back to the corrupt bastard I’ve been working for all along? Doesn’t give me the warm fuzzies,” she snapped. In a flurry of movement, she was out of bed and walking toward the door. “Thank you for telling me. I’m gonna grab some breakfast. Bonnie’s cooking smells too good to ignore, and I haven’t had real food in too long. I’ll bring some back for you if you want.” She stopped to glance at him over her shoulder.

“Sounds good,” he murmured, the faraway look on his face indicating that he didn’t really care one way or the other.

*****

_Notice anything weird lately?_

_No. Pretty quiet here. U and Damon have all the sex yet? :*_

_NO_

_Haha j/k! Will let u know if things change._

_Thnx. Later._

Elena sent the last text to Caroline before reaching into the newly restocked cooler for a bag of blood. While Damon was showering, she wanted to take advantage of the brief respite to collect her thoughts. He’d been unusually quiet since their discussion yesterday morning. She could deal with his sass, but the silent treatment? Not like him.

She tore off the corner of the bag and was about to take her first sip when the door opened to reveal Mr. Moody himself. He was wearing his usual dark jeans, but he seemed to have misplaced his shirt. Also his towel, she noted as she watched a droplet of water slide down his back.

“At least he’s wearing pants,” she muttered.

“I heard that.”

“Hungry?” she asked, gesturing to the cooler.

He padded over to inspect the contents. “This is full. When did you get more?”

“I made a run while you were in the shower.”

“Huh. So you trust me now?” he asked with a sly grin.

To keep from answering, she gulped down a few mouthfuls of blood. The hole she’d made in the bag was bigger than she’d intended, and she felt a few drops leak from the corner of her mouth. Lifting a hand to wipe it away, she was unprepared when Damon caught her wrist and used his thumb to collect the excess blood before popping it in his mouth to lick clean.

The sight would’ve been comical if Damon weren’t so . . . _Damon_. As it was, her heart was racing, and she knew if she looked into a mirror, she’d see that her pupils had exploded in anticipation of the feed. Still, she couldn’t resist the chance to crack a joke. “You don’t have to pout and suck your thumb. I brought enough for you, too,” she said, a slight shakiness to her voice.

He chuckled, but his smile quickly faded. “I was thinking that I owe you an apology for the whole trying-to-kill-you thing. So, sorry about that.” He dragged a hand through his hair before continuing. “And thanks for, uh, saving my life,” he finished, staring at the floor instead of her for once. “I realized I never said anything about it.”

_Whoa._ “Um, no problem. That must’ve been quite the shower you took if it led to all those epiphanies.” She laughed a little to try and diffuse some of the awkwardness and tension, but it didn’t help. “Want some now?” she asked, sliding the cooler toward him.

He nodded and grabbed one of the bags. Remembering what it had been like to watch him feed in the cell at HQ, she stood and was about to turn away so she could finish her own meal when the sound of his voice made her stop.

“Stay. Please.” The words were thick, the _s_ more sibilant than usual. She turned to find him regarding her with his lips slightly parted, the tips of his fangs visible. She ran her tongue over her teeth and was unsurprised to find that her own fangs had joined the party.

She slowly sank back into the chair and carefully raised the bag to her mouth. She swallowed more of the life-sustaining liquid, her eyes locked on Damon’s as he did the same, tearing into his bag as if he hadn’t fed in months. His pupils were fully dilated, and she found herself unable to look away from the sight of him.

Elena drained hers first, crumpling the empty bag in her fist. She rose to toss it in the trash, panting softly as the effects of the blood rushed through her system. An inarticulate sound—somewhere between a growl and a purr—ripped out of Damon, and before she could react, she found herself pressed against the wall, his body flush with hers, his damp skin beneath her suddenly trembling hands.

“Damon!” she gasped, arching into him as his mouth found her throat and latched on, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin.

“Can’t wait any longer,” he rasped. “Want you.”

Everywhere he touched her, sparks ignited, searing away everything until all that remained was _him_. “Yes,” she hissed, her tongue darting out to catch a bead of water inching its way down his chest. If the blaze was going to consume them, they might as well burn together.

Her hands ghosted down his torso, muscles contracting beneath her touch. Fingers flirted with the waistband of his jeans before slipping inside and curling around the hard length of his cock. She gave him an experimental squeeze, and he snarled a curse, his head falling onto her shoulder.

“Christ, Elena,” he gritted out. She deftly popped the button and dragged down the zipper, giving her better access to his straining arousal. She stroked him, alternating between teasing caresses and the occasional firm tug until his breath was coming in ragged pants. He let her play for a few more moments before brushing her hands away. “Not that I’m not enjoying this _thoroughly_ , but . . .” he trailed off as he grabbed the hem of her cami and pulled it over her head, letting the discarded garment drop to the floor. Her jeans were next to go, Damon practically tearing them in half in his impatience to be rid of them.

When she was left with only a scrap of black lace to cover her, he paused to take in her near nudity, his eyes roving over every inch of skin he’d revealed. “Beautiful,” he murmured, cupping her breasts and rubbing his thumbs over her already hard nipples. He dipped his head, taking one into his mouth and biting down just hard enough to make her squeal.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, her grip tightening with every pleasurable sensation that rocketed through her. “Damon,” she moaned, “kiss me.” The words had hardly left her lips before his mouth was on hers, his tongue thrusting in and then slowly retreating, mimicking the way he wanted to fuck her.

Elena’s arms snaked around his waist, holding him close as she writhed against him, desperate for the friction she craved. She reluctantly broke the kiss, her fevered gaze meeting his. “Lose the jeans,” she whispered.

“Only if these go, too.” He hooked a finger in the flimsy fabric of her panties, arching a playful brow.

“Go for it.” There was a sharp yank followed by the snap of elastic, and Damon was holding up the ruined garment like it was a prize he’d won. “Caveman,” Elena chided. She was about to scold him for destroying her favorite pair of underwear when he sank to his knees in front of her, hooked her leg over his shoulder, and put his mouth to her sex.

“Jesus,” she breathed as he grinned up at her, heated blue eyes studying her every reaction. She watched, mesmerized, as his tongue parted her slick folds and teased its way to her clit with slow, lazy strokes. When she started to lose her footing, he quickly gripped her hips to keep her steady.

Her eyes slid closed as he began to lap at her in earnest as if she were the sweetest treat he’d ever tasted. The tip of his tongue penetrated her while he worked his thumb over her clit in tight circles, driving her into a frenzy of need. She could feel her orgasm building with every flick and nip. _So close._ “Fuck, Damon,” she groaned.

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” he murmured against her skin before scooping her up and depositing her on the bed. She barely had time to cry out at the loss of his talented mouth before it was replaced with the blunt head of his cock. He rubbed himself up and down her slit until she was on the verge of begging him to take her. Sweat beaded on his skin, and he exhaled a shaky breath as he glanced down at her where she lie sprawled out beneath him. “I can’t do this slow, baby. I need to fuck you. Hard,” he growled.

She met his gaze, unperturbed by the wild gleam in his eyes. “Then what are you waiting for?”

His answering smile was nothing short of wicked, and he thrust into her, burying himself deep. He paused briefly to let her body adjust before settling into a rhythm of long, rapid strokes that had her biting her lip until she tasted blood. She wrapped her legs around his waist, doing her best to keep up with the frantic tempo when every movement was pushing her closer to the edge.

A hand fisted in her hair, easing her head back and giving him better access to her throat. She shivered as the tips of his fangs traced her carotid, and she waited for him to sink his teeth into her vein, but the bite never came. Instead, he pulled away, watching her with hooded eyes. He tilted his hips, and she arched off the bed with a strangled cry as his cock brushed against the sensitive patch of nerves guaranteed to make her see stars. “As much as I’d love to hear you scream for me, I don’t want Bonnie to come running thinking that I’m killing you,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

“I might have a solution for that,” she managed, her mind in danger of fuzzing out completely. Before she lost all control, she cupped the back of his neck and eased him closer so she could nuzzle his throat. His groan of pleasure spurred her on as she nipped at the skin just beneath his ear. The punishing pace he’d set was becoming more and more erratic, telling her that he was close, too.

“That’s it, Elena. Bite me while I make you come.” The erotic vision created by his words was all the encouragement she needed. She swirled her tongue over his vein and placed a kiss there, his blood pumping furiously beneath her lips. Knowing her release was fast approaching, she reared back and buried her fangs in his throat. The first taste of his blood caused her entire body to spasm, and she tightened around him in orgasmic bliss, her scream of ecstasy muffled against his neck.

He immediately followed her over the edge, biting her shoulder to mask his own shout. They drank from each other, both of them caught in the unending web of sensation they’d woven. When they finally collapsed in a sated heap, Elena closed Damon’s wound with a swipe of her tongue while he laved the puncture marks he’d left behind.

Keeping them joined, he rolled over, tucking Elena against his chest. She drew invisible patterns on his skin, soaking up the peaceful aftermath of their coupling. Unable to stifle a yawn, she let her eyes slide shut as Damon pressed a kiss to her forehead. Taking advantage of a quiet moment in the midst of the insanity that had become their lives, she drifted off to sleep, safe and content in Damon’s arms.

*****

The pen in Elijah’s hand tapped out a staccato rhythm on the legal pad wedged beneath his arm. He glanced up at his brother, who was seated across from him with a sour look on his face. Then again, that appeared to be Niklaus’s default setting as of late.

“Having fun with all your bloody tapping?” he snarled. “I thought you asked me here because you had something important you wanted to discuss.”

“Yes, there is that,” Elijah conceded. “How shall I put this? I fear Elena has—what’s the phrase—gone off the grid?”

“Why? What have you heard?”

“Nothing, and that’s just the problem. It’s not like her to be so . . . evasive, and I never expected the search to take this long. Elena is efficient beyond measure. Look how quickly she captured him last time,” he pointed out.

“So you think they’re in league with each other now. Fucking wonderful. You should’ve let me kill them when I had the chance,” Klaus snapped.

“I didn’t believe her capable of this level of betrayal,” Elijah confessed. “Such a shame. Ah, well. There’s nothing to be done for it now except to clean up the mess and move on.” He paused as he studied his brother. “I have a task for you, one I think you’ll quite enjoy.”

“What’s that?” came the wary response.

“We have no further use for Stefan. Dispose of him in whatever way you see fit, but don’t delay,” he instructed. “The sooner this debacle meets its end, the better.”

“Your wish, my command,” Klaus drawled, a cruel smile curling his lips.

Neither was aware of the blonde vampire hovering outside of Elijah’s office, a look of horror encompassing her pretty features as she listened in on their conversation, nor were they there to observe her dashing down the hallway to place a warning call to her friend.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

Elena was certain she was dreaming. The intense pleasure that made her toes curl and her nails tear into the bedding couldn’t be real. Forcing herself the rest of the way into consciousness, she was met by a familiar pair of fathomless blue eyes and a sexy smirk that carried more than a hint of wickedness.

“Seems I can’t get enough of you,” Damon rasped from where he was perched above her, straddling her hips.

She was no stranger to sex, but she couldn’t recall a time when another person’s touch had affected her as much as his did. Every nerve ending was like a live wire, and he knew how to trip them all. His mouth was everywhere at once: nibbling the shell of her ear, teasing her inner thigh, kissing a path over her collarbone and down to her breasts, dipping his tongue into her navel.

He eased her onto her belly and traced a finger down the length of her spine, shivers racing through her in its wake. Curling an arm around her hips, he lifted her until she was propped up on her knees, her upper body resting on the bed. Her heart-shaped ass swayed in front of him, and he couldn’t resist giving it a swat.

Her yelp of surprise turned into a purr as he kissed the rapidly fading pink mark he’d left behind. He nudged her legs farther apart and cupped her sex, his thumb feathering over her clit. She pushed back against him, seeking more of everything—his mouth, his fingers, his cock.

He chuckled at her efforts. “Eager, are we?”

“Nobody likes a tease,” she grumbled in frustration.

“But it’s so fun,” he murmured, slipping one long finger inside of her. She moaned at the intrusion, her inner muscles tightening around him to prevent him from depriving her of what she wanted most. A second finger joined the first, and he pumped them into her slowly, his knuckles rubbing against her sensitive tissues.

“Need more. Please.” She met each thrust with one of her own, her breath leaving her in uneven pants.

“Greedy little thing,” he mused, gradually picking up the pace.

“Fuck me, Damon,” she growled. Definitely not a request.

No sooner had she made her demand than his fingers were replaced with the rock-hard thickness of his cock. She cried out as he surged forward, filling her completely, his hips flush with her backside. He paused for a few moments to savor the feel of her tight sheath surrounding him before withdrawing slightly and tormenting her with a series of shallow thrusts designed to keep her teetering on the edge but weren’t quite enough to send her careening over.

She reached behind her, her nails biting into his thigh—a small punishment for his dallying. “Harder,” she pleaded, dragging them across his flesh until he hissed in pleasure/pain.

He complied with her request, his hips slamming against hers as he drove into her, fucking her with wild abandon. He gripped her waist, fingers digging into her soft skin. “Jesus, Elena,” he groaned. “I could get lost in you. So easily.”

She nodded in agreement, a whimper escaping her as another powerful wave of bliss crashed into her. She couldn’t pinpoint how or when it had happened, but Damon had gotten under her skin, and she was content to have him stay put, literally and figuratively.

His hand drifted between her legs, skilled fingers rubbing and pinching her swollen clit. She frantically grabbed at the pillows, biting into one to muffle the scream she knew she’d be powerless to stop. Without slowing his thrusts, Damon blanketed her back, using his free hand to brush her hair over her shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her neck, his tongue darting out to taste her sweat-slickened skin. “Ready?” he whispered hotly in her ear.

“Mmhmm,” came the faint response.

“Come for me, Elena.” His teeth closed over her nape, biting down, but not hard enough to draw blood. She bucked underneath him, her cries of ecstasy muted by the pillow’s down. Her orgasm triggered his own, and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to shout her name until the windows rattled. His hips jerked uncontrollably as he emptied his seed inside of her before they both sank to the mattress in a tangle of limbs.

Elena’s muscles continued to spasm with delicious aftershocks, and she was on the verge of nodding off once more when a beeping noise caught her attention. She listened, and when the sound came again, she realized what it was. “Fuck. Someone’s calling me.”

“Ignore it,” Damon mumbled, his breath stirring her hair. He pulled her tighter against him, throwing a leg over both of hers for good measure.

“Can’t. It might be Elijah.” It wasn’t an easy task, but she finally managed to extricate herself from his grasp. Padding over to the table and doing her best to ignore Damon’s sigh of disappointment, she scooped up her phone and checked the display. Surprised to see Caroline’s name flashing on the screen, she quickly answered the call. “Care. What’s up?”

“Elena! Oh, my God. I’m so glad you picked up. We have a problem. Several actually. What a mess. This is a—”

“Whoa, slow down,” Elena interrupted her friend’s panicked rambling. “One thing at a time. What is it?”

“Elijah suspects that you’re helping Damon, and he’s ordered Klaus to kill Stefan.” She inhaled a shuddering breath as if she were about to burst into tears. “It could happen as soon as tonight.”

“Dammit. Change of plans then. Caroline, I need you to do me a huge favor,” Elena requested.

“Anything.”

“Can you keep Klaus occupied? I have to get Stefan out of there, and you’re my best shot at a distraction,” she explained. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Damon sit up in bed and shoot her a concerned look.

“What? No! Elena, you need to take Damon and get the hell out of town,” Caroline pleaded. “If either Elijah or Klaus finds you, you’re both as good as dead. I’ll think of another way to free Stefan.”

Elena glanced at the clock on the wall, judging how much time she had to work with. “Hey, listen to me. I’ll be fine, but I can’t do this without your help. Do whatever you have to do to keep Klaus out of the dungeon—play a game of Monopoly, beg him to paint you a picture, or if all else fails, you can always vervain his ass. Just make sure his ego is the only thing you stroke,” she warned. “I don’t want you getting hurt. Can you do that?”

Caroline paused for a moment before answering. “Yes, but I don’t like this, Elena. Too much could go wrong.”

“If everything goes to shit, I’ll deal with it.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that. What time?”

“I’ll be there at nine. If Klaus gets murdery before then, let me know.”

“Okay. Promise me you’ll be careful,” Caroline said, her voice unsteady.

“I’ll do my best. Thanks, Care.” Elena ended the call and tossed the phone back onto the table. “Fan-fucking-tastic,” she muttered, turning around and almost plowing into Damon.

“What was that all about?” he asked. “What’s going on with Stefan?”

“Elijah’s onto us, and Klaus has been given a free pass to get rid of your brother,” she said, paraphrasing Caroline’s disturbing news report.

“Do you have a plan?”

“Fine-tuning one as we speak,” she offered with a grim smile as she collected her scattered clothes and threw them on. “Wait here. I need to have a chat with the Head Witch in Charge.”

*****

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I know this isn’t your cup of tea, Bonnie, but I need your help. Please.”

The woman paced back and forth in the spacious kitchen, her hands curling and uncurling at her sides. Every now and then, a current of charged air made Elena’s skin prickle, and she reminded herself not to piss off Bonnie. She couldn’t afford to get fried by an angry witch when she had a rescue mission to carry out.

Bonnie finally stopped and turned to face her, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Two vampires were plenty, now you want to add two more?”

“It’s the only place they’ll be safe.”

“I’m more concerned about the safety of the people living here,” Bonnie shot back.

“I trust Damon and Caroline. Between the three of us, we can keep an eye on Stefan,” Elena tried to reassure her.

“He’s unstable, Elena. What if he snaps?”

“We’ll keep some vervain on hand just in case.” She hesitated, not wanting to push Bonnie too far. “Um, there are a couple more things I wanted to ask.”

“There’s _more_?”

“Just hear me out. Freeing Stefan isn’t going to be easy. The psychopath who locked him up is unpredictable to say the least. I need you to wait outside and keep watch for anybody else who might want to join the party,” she explained.

“Anything else?” Bonnie asked with a sigh, reluctantly agreeing to her role as lookout.

“Yeah, actually, there is,” Elena revealed.

“And that would be?”

“I need to make sure Damon stays here.”

*****

When Elena reentered the room, she found Damon already dressed and polishing off the last few drops of a blood bag. He tossed the empty bag in the trash and caught her hand, pulling her to him. “So, how did it go with Bonnie?” he asked as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“A little rocky in the beginning, but we came to an understanding.”

“Good. When do we leave?”

Dreading the argument to come, she led him over to the bed and tugged him down to sit beside her. “About that . . . um, there’s no ‘we’ Damon. Only Bonnie and I are going.”

“No fucking way. I’m coming, too. He’s my goddamn brother, Elena,” he pointed out, eyes flaring with a wildness that reminded her of the state he’d been in when she’d first discovered him lurking in the ramshackle boardinghouse.

She cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing over the rough stubble there. “I get it, believe me, but I’m not going to put you in jeopardy. Elijah won’t hesitate to kill you this time, and neither will Klaus. I’ll get Stefan back. Promise.”

“And what about you?” he demanded. “What happens if they get their hands on you?”

She shrugged. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

“How reassuring.”

“Trust me, alright? This isn’t my first rodeo.” Elena leaned in for a quick kiss before rising and gathering a few things to throw into a duffel bag.

“Trust isn’t the problem, Elena.” He trailed after her, eyeing the various weapons she was collecting. “I’m coming with you,” he repeated.

She said nothing, just continued packing. When she was satisfied that she had what she wanted, she zipped up the bag and hoisted it onto her shoulder. “I just need to grab a few things from the apartment, then I’ll be all set.” There was a knock at the door, and she opened it to reveal Bonnie, grim-faced with her arms crossed in front of her in the definitive same-shit-different-day stance.

“Ready?” she asked.

Elena nodded and stepped into the hallway. Damon attempted to join her, but his progress was blocked by an invisible barrier at the threshold. He banged his fists against it, glaring at Bonnie.

“You did this,” he snarled. “Let me out!”

“I’m sorry, Damon. I won’t risk your life again.” With one last apologetic glance in his direction, Elena turned and followed Bonnie down the stairs.

*****

Caroline folded her hands in her lap to hide her jitters. Nothing like a date with the Devil, she mused as she watched Klaus enter the room holding a bottle of champagne and two expensive-looking crystal glasses.

While he set everything on the table in front of her and began working the cork free, she pondered his choice of alcohol. “Are we celebrating something?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

“You could say that,” he replied, giving her a cheeky grin.

“Not gonna clue me in?” she pried.

“Let’s just say that things are going to start looking up.” The cork finally came loose with a loud pop, and Caroline jumped. “Everything okay, love? You seem a bit tense.”

“Yeah, fine.” She graced him with her best smile—the one that brought men to their knees—and accepted the glass he offered her, clinking it with his. “Cheers to whatever has you in such a good mood.” She took a sip, gazing at him over the rim. His eyes met hers, and she saw the desire there, which both terrified and empowered her. “So, you’ve never really told me about yourself. What do you do for fun? Any hobbies?” _Besides being a narcissistic asshole who bathes in the blood of his enemies._

“You want to know all about me, do you?” he asked in surprise.

She leaned forward, giving him her undivided attention. “That’s right. Every detail.”

*****

“This is the place.” Elena stopped outside the rear door of Klaus’s mansion and tried to gauge Bonnie’s reaction. The witch had hardly spoken since they’d left the safe house.

“Impressive. How do you plan on getting in? I’m guessing he’s not in the habit of leaving his doors unlocked.”

Elena patted the bag hanging off her shoulder. “I’ve never met a lock I couldn’t pick.”

Bonnie nodded in approval. “Here, take this.” She pulled a pendant out of her pocket and handed it to Elena. “Wear it with the crystal touching your skin. If I see someone, it’ll turn ice cold to warn you.”

“Thanks.” Elena slipped it over her head and tucked the crystal under her shirt. “If something happens to me, make sure Caroline gets away, will you? I don’t want that bastard going after her, too.”

“Sure,” Bonnie agreed.

Elena gave her a small smile and carried her bag over to the door. “Wish me luck,” she murmured.

“Good luck,” came the equally quiet response.

*****

As soon as she was inside, Elena paused to listen for any indication that someone was near. She heard snippets of conversation from deeper within the house, and she instantly recognized Caroline’s bubbly voice and Klaus’s smarmy accent. From what she could tell, he was dictating his life’s story to her, and she was soaking up every tidbit with exaggerated enthusiasm that was lost on the egomaniac. _Atta girl, Care. Keep him talking._

Focusing on the task at hand, she quickly located the stairs and dashed down to the basement. Cobwebs once again clung to her hair and clothes as she picked her way through the dark corridor. She followed the traces of blood, which led her unerringly to the door of Stefan’s cell.

“Stefan?” she whispered.

No response. She pressed her ear to the worn wood, detecting the dull thud of his sluggish heartbeat. Finding the pick she needed in her back pocket, she went to work on the old lock, disengaging it in record time. She eased the door open, surprised when the hinges soundlessly gave way. Then again, Klaus was probably in and out of there so often that they’d loosened up long ago.

She crept inside, clicking on a flashlight and shining it around the cell’s interior. The scent of blood was overpowering, and when the beam landed on Stefan, she realized why. He was hanging limply from a pair of rusty shackles, the iron chains the only thing keeping him from collapsing onto the dirty floor. He was shirtless, his torso and arms covered in welts and cuts that continued to seep blood when they should’ve been healing. Odd.

“Stefan?” she called again, approaching slowly so she wouldn’t startle him. He remained motionless, and she reached out to touch him, struggling to find a patch of skin that hadn’t been ripped open by whatever weapon Klaus had used to torture him. She looked closer, discovering that the wounds resembled those left behind by a whip. She carefully traced one of the lacerations on his side, hissing when the tips of her fingers started to sizzle. “Vervain. Fucking sadist,” she growled.

Stefan jerked awake at the sound of her voice, recoiling weakly. “Please, no more,” he rasped. His bleary eyes finally fixed on her, and he frowned in confusion. “Who are you?”

“I’m Elena, a friend of your brother’s,” she explained in a rush. “I’m the one who found you during Klaus’s party.”

The mention of Damon cleared some of the fogginess from his expression. “Is he—”

“He’s fine,” she soothed, glancing up at the chains that held him. “Are those spelled?”

He shook his head. “Klaus didn’t think it was necessary. He keeps me too weak to break them.”

Elena breathed a sigh of relief and pawed through her bag for the next item she needed. Locating the bag of blood, she tore a small hole in it and raised it to Stefan’s mouth. “Here, drink this. I need you strong enough to walk out of here at least partly on your own steam.”

Dark veins danced beneath his eyes as he drank what she offered, depleting the bag in a matter of seconds. She opened a second one and repeated the process, watching as he hungrily gulped down the contents.

“A little better?” she asked as she started to work on his shackles.

“Yes, thank you.”

The first cuff came free, and she gently lowered Stefan’s arm to his side. He groaned, trying to stretch his stiff muscles. “Sorry,” she murmured. The other proved more difficult, the lock sticking. She kept at it until it sprang open, releasing his battered wrist. He swayed as he tried to support his full weight on shaky legs. Elena slipped an arm around his waist to keep him steady and started to lead him toward the door. Just as they entered the hallway, she felt an iciness against her chest and remembered the crystal Bonnie had given her. “Shit. We have to move, Stefan. As quickly as you can.”

She half dragged, half carried him up the stairs where she was met at the top by a frantic Caroline. “Elena, hurry! Elijah just showed up. He’s talking with Klaus now, but it won’t be much longer until they come for Stefan.”

Elena passed Stefan off to Caroline, gesturing for them to leave. “Bonnie’s waiting outside. Go with her back to the safe house. I’ll catch up.” Her friend started to protest, but Elena help up a hand, silencing her. “They’ll be here soon. Go,” she urged.

The sound of approaching footsteps spurred Caroline into action, and she raced for the door with Stefan in tow. As soon as they were out of sight, Elijah rounded the corner, heading straight for the basement stairs. Elena palmed the knife hidden at the small of her back and prepared to meet her boss.

He appeared at the top of the stairwell moments later, silhouetted by the hallway lights. “Elena. Fancy seeing you here.”

“A pleasant surprise indeed,” Klaus purred from behind her. Before she could react, an arm locked around her waist, pinning her hands at her sides. Next came the stab of a needle in her throat, the familiar burn of vervain entering her system. Her knife clattered to the floor as she struggled in vain against Klaus’s unyielding grip. Strength waning and vision blurring, she went limp in his arms, unable to fight it any longer. Lips brushed her ear, and she shivered in revulsion. “Time to pay the piper, love.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

“Ah, Elena. How is it that we’ve come to this?”

Elijah’s voice was quiet, wistful, as he regarded the powerful huntress—or _former_ huntress, rather—before him, still unconscious as a result of the vervain Niklaus had injected her with. It pained him to see her this way, shackled to the wall like she herself were a feral vampire.

All those years of training and finely honed skills, gone to waste. “Such a pity,” he murmured.

She stirred, a groan slipping past her lips as she struggled to throw off the effects of the vervain. Bleary brown eyes met Elijah’s as she tugged on her chains. “What are you doing?”

He adjusted the perfectly folded handkerchief in his breast pocket before stepping closer. “Isn’t it clear? You’ve betrayed me in the worst possible way, Elena. You’ve left me no other option.”

“There’s always a choice,” she shot back, the last of the grogginess leaving her. “If you want to discuss bad decisions, you should take it up with the guy staring back at you in the mirror.”

“I see you’ve done your fair share of snooping, though I should have figured as much the morning I found my office door unlocked. I just never expected you’d stoop so low as to aid a pair of ruthless killers,” he said, anger sharpening his words.

“‘Ruthless killers’?” she parroted. “Again with the mirror. I’d say that description applies to _you_ after what you did to the Salvatores’ parents.” She yanked on the cuffs again, trying to dislodge them from the wall.

“It’s no use. They’re spelled. Unlike my brother’s carelessness with Stefan, I won’t be taking any chances with you, especially given your penchant for lock picking,” he pointed out dryly. “Speaking of Stefan, that was quite the elaborate plan you concocted—using Caroline as a distraction while you freed him. I hope you’re satisfied now that you’ve also endangered your friend’s life. By helping you, she’s revealed herself to be a traitor and will be punished accordingly.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll never find her,” Elena spat, confident Bonnie would uphold her end of the deal.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. It won’t be long before your troupe of miscreants has been captured and disposed of, even if I have to do it myself. Then all of your scheming will have been for naught.”

“So what’s the plan? Gonna get rid of me, too?” she asked, ignoring his idle threats.

He turned away, walking slowly toward the cell door. “Soon,” he revealed, the statement cold and flat. “Oh, and another thing—if Damon should try to play the hero by coming to your aid, I’ll kill him without hesitation.”

She straightened, refusing to show weakness. “Don’t pretend you’re not going to enjoy every second of this.”

“I take no joy in your impending death. Damon, on the other hand . . .” He trailed off, glancing at her over his shoulder. “Goodbye, Elena.” He stepped out of the cell, the lock snapping into place with a finality that wasn’t lost on either of them.

*****

When the door opened, Damon shot off the bed, eager to confront whoever was the first one to saunter across the threshold. He’d decide whether or not to throttle the unlucky soul once he saw who it was. A certain witch was high on his list.

His frustration instantly evaporated when he was greeted by the sight of his bloodied brother draped between Bonnie and a blonde he recognized as Elena’s BFF, Caroline.

“Stefan!” Damon was at his side in an instant, helping the two women as they slowly led him to the bed. As a group, they eased him onto the mattress, careful not to disturb the half-healed gashes covering his upper body. “What the hell did the bastard do to you?” Damon asked, his gut churning at the extent of the damage, the wounds too numerous to count.

“Nothing that won’t heal,” Stefan rasped, smiling weakly at his brother.

“Jesus, Stef. I thought I’d never see you again. You have no idea how glad I am to be wrong about that.” Damon reached for his hand, and Stefan grabbed on like it was the lifeline he’d been without for too long. They let their mutual relief soak in for a few minutes until Damon glanced up and discovered Caroline lingering by the foot of the bed, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. “Grab some blood from the cooler,” he instructed, pointing toward the table. “It’s over there.”

She returned moments later with a couple of bags and handed them to him. “Thanks. Can you get me a washcloth and some warm water so I can clean him up?”

“Bonnie’s already working on it,” she replied, and Damon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Apparently, the prickly witch had a soft side after all.

He tore open one of the bags and held it to Stefan’s mouth, watching as he drank it down, although not as quickly as Damon had assumed he would. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you hungry?”

Stefan swallowed the last of the blood and licked his lips. “Your friend Elena gave me some before we left Klaus’s.”

“Where is she, by the way? I thought she’d be with you.” His gaze darted from Caroline to his brother and then to Bonnie when she reappeared with a basin of water and a towel and washcloth draped over her arm.

The room descended into silence as Bonnie busied herself by dragging over a chair to set the basin on, and Caroline stared at the floor, scuffing her shoe on the carpet. “Don’t speak up all at once. Where the fuck is she?” he growled, even though the answer was becoming clearer by the second. He glared at the women until Stefan cleared his throat.

“She stayed behind to deal with Elijah and Klaus,” he revealed, wincing as he tried to sit up. “She bought us enough time to get away.”

Damon placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Lie still. You need to rest.” He dipped the washcloth in the water and wrung out the excess, then carefully dabbed at the dried blood on Stefan’s chest.

“What are we going to do?” Stefan asked, his voice laced with exhaustion and his eyelids drooping as he fought to stay awake.

“She saved our asses, so we’re going to return the favor,” Damon answered with determination as he tended to a particularly nasty gash in his brother’s side. He looked up when Bonnie quietly offered him a small bowl containing some kind of green paste. “I like guacamole as much as the next guy, but I don’t think that’s what we need right now.”

“It’s an herbal mixture, you ass. It’ll help heal his wounds,” she said, rolling her eyes at the crack.

“Huh. Thanks,” he muttered, taking the bowl from her and smearing some of the goop on the cut he’d just finished cleaning.

“Whatever you’re planning, I’m in,” Caroline spoke up as she perched on the opposite side of the bed. “Elena’s always had my back.”

He nodded. “You got it, Blondie.”

“Me, too,” Stefan mumbled, half asleep. “I don’t really know her, but I owe her.”

Damon smiled at his brother. “Get some sleep, Stef.”

“Me, three,” Bonnie chimed in, moving to stand behind Caroline. “Elena’s a good woman, and I know you care about her.” When he opened his mouth to respond, she held up a hand. “Don’t try to deny it. You two aren’t fooling anybody. My room is below this one, and I’ve had to sweep plaster dust off the floor more than once,” she said with a knowing grin.

Damon grimaced while Caroline turned a brilliant shade of red, and Stefan managed a shaky laugh, but it quickly turned into a groan as he clutched his ribs.

“Great. Now that everyone’s up to speed on my love life, let’s figure out how to get her back, shall we?”

*****

A rustling sound outside Elena’s cell alerted her to the fact that she was about to have a second visitor. _Odd._ After Elijah’s earlier speech, she’d assumed his mind was made up and there would be no further discussions.

As the door swung open to reveal her least favorite monster, she almost wished it _were_ Elijah intent on giving her another tongue lashing. Now it was likely to be an actual lashing.

“Oh, goody. Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any better,” she muttered.

Klaus strolled into the room, pausing briefly to close the door behind him. When he turned around again, she rolled her eyes at the ridiculous grin he was sporting. She’d never seen the fucker look so smug in her life. It made her want to rearrange his face. Permanently.

“I couldn’t resist paying a visit to our resident traitor,” he greeted her.

“You should have tried harder, asshole. Get out,” she snapped.

“You’re in no position to be giving me orders, love.”

“Whatever. Why are you here, exactly? We both know this isn’t a social call.”

He came closer, stalking around her in a wide circle. _Coward._ “I thought we might play a little game.”

“How about no.”

“I figured you’d say as much, but you might want to pay attention to the rules. I’m going to ask you where Stefan and Damon are, and for every wrong answer you give me, I’ll slice you open and carve out one of your organs at random. The heart is temporarily off limits, of course,” he explained. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“Loads. And if I don’t tell you anything at all?” she asked.

“I consider a nonresponse to be the same as an incorrect one.”

“Mmm. You must be hard as a diamond right about now, thinking of all the ways you’re going to torture me. But then again, I’m not Stefan or Damon, so it might not be as much of a turn-on for you. Bummer,” she added.

“I’m a man of many . . . tastes, it’s true, but _this_ ,” he emphasized, gesturing to her chains, “this is something I’ve been looking forward to for quite a while: the opportunity to repay you for all the times you thought you had the upper hand.”

“This is thrilling,” she drawled, faking a yawn. “Are you going to get on with it, or do I have to listen to more whining about how unfair it is that I’m better than you at . . . well, everything?”

He laughed even as he reached inside his coat and withdrew a knife. _Her_ knife. “You always were a spitfire. I don’t think I’ve ever properly appreciated that until now. It’s so much more appealing than Stefan’s resignation, although he was a fighter in the beginning, too.”

Elena’s stomach roiled at the sight of her favorite weapon, which was about to be used against her. She fought down the discomfort and glared at Klaus. “You’re one sick fuck, you know that?”

“But I do so enjoy it,” he replied, his disturbing grin widening. “Shall we get started? There’s so much to punish you for that I don’t even know where to begin. Let’s see . . .” He held up a hand and ticked off her discrepancies on each finger. “You freed Damon, stole Stefan away from me, doomed the lovely Caroline to an untimely death, belittled me in front of my brother, and nearly ruined an intricate plan that’s been years in the making.”

She shrugged. “You’ll get over it.”

His smile faltered before disappearing completely. “Fuck the bloody game. We’ll hunt them down without your help. I’d rather listen to you scream,” he growled.

“Don’t hold your breath.” She braced herself for the pain that was about to tear through her and closed her eyes, thinking of Damon, Stefan, and Caroline, safe and out of harm’s way. She lingered on Damon, reliving their time together and regretting how brief it had been. She probably wouldn’t see him—or any of them—again, but at least she’d righted some of Elijah and Klaus’s wrongs.

The first stab of the blade drove it deep into her abdomen—so deep that she expected the tip to be sticking out of her lower back. She grunted from the force of the blow and the fire that began to spread through her insides, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

Klaus yanked out the weapon, and she clenched her teeth against the agony. “Impressive,” he purred, “but I wonder if you can keep this up. Should be interesting to find out.” He buried the knife in her side next, chuckling as he watched her shudder in the chains.

“Let’s see how much it takes to break you, little huntress.”

*****

“Elena, darling? Open your eyes. I know you can hear me.” There was a rueful sigh followed by a _tsk_ ing sound. “What the hell have my brothers done now?” the voice muttered in disgust.

Elena tried to work her eyelids, but they felt like they had lead weights attached to them. Every part of her ached, even her scalp. Probably because Klaus had taken perverse pleasure in winding her long tresses around his fist and dragging her head back so he could slice into her neck with the wicked blade. Her clothes were now soaked in blood, and she was standing in a pool of it. Her boots stuck to the floor every time she tried to move.

She finally coerced her eyes into getting with the program, and she squinted at the person in front of her until her vision cleared enough to reveal the woman’s concerned face. “Rebekah,” she whispered. “What are you doing? If they find out you’re here, they’ll flip the fuck out.”

“Don’t worry about me. I heard they threw you in this damn cell, and I came to check on you as soon as I could. What’s going on?”

“Elijah and Klaus,” she began, trying to force the words out of her raw throat. “They’ve done horrible things. They killed Giuseppe and Lily Salvatore. Tortured their son Stefan. Almost killed his brother Damon. I found out the truth and rescued them. Now Elijah wants me dead for spoiling his master plan.”

“Bloody hell. And Klaus did this to you?” Rebekah asked, indicating her current state.

“Yeah. It’s how he shows his love, apparently,” she muttered. “You don’t seem very surprised.”

Rebekah paced back and forth in front of Elena, stopping every few moments to curse her brothers. “I always knew they were ambitious, but this is insane. How did you find out?”

“I went snooping after Damon dropped some hints, and I came across a journal in a safe in Elijah’s office. It’s all in there,” Elena admitted. “I also discovered Stefan locked up in Klaus’s dungeon.”

The kinder, gentler Mikaelson tapped her chin with a manicured nail for a moment before taking a key ring from her pocket and reaching for Elena’s shackled wrists. “I’ll deal with them later. The most important thing is to get you out of here.”

“No, Bex,” she pleaded. “They’ll add you to their ‘Most Wanted’ list.”

“I’m certainly not leaving you behind,” Rebekah argued.

“I’ll survive,” Elena said with more conviction than she actually felt. “Elijah wants to do this the official way, so he won’t kill me until he’s met with the Committee. There’s still some time.”

“How do I stop it then?”

“The safe’s in the wall behind your portrait. Grab the journal. There’s another loose page underneath all of the junk, too. Get them and take them to Damon. That’ll give him all the proof he needs to clue the Committee in to what’s really been happening,” she explained in a rush, her breath leaving her in painful wheezes.

“You’re sure about this?”

“Positive. It’s the only way to put an end to it.” She paused, trying to judge Rebekah’s reaction. “Are _you_ sure about this? They’re your family.”

Her friend and sister-in-arms grew pensive. “I am,” she replied after a brief hesitation. “I’m not going to stand by while they kill innocent people because of some idiotic power struggle.”

Elena sighed in relief, grateful she could trust Bex. She rattled off Bonnie’s address and the combination to the safe, and then urged her to go before her brothers found out what she was up to.

When Rebekah was halfway out the door, she turned back to Elena. “Hold on a bit longer, love. I promise this will all be over soon.”

“Thanks, Bekah. I hope so.”

With one last encouraging smile, she left Elena alone to ponder whether the plan she’d set into motion would free or condemn them all.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

Elijah scrolled through his contacts until he found the name he wanted. He stared at the number for longer than usual, his thumb hovering over the screen. This was it. Once the Committee was involved, there wouldn’t be any backtracking or reconsidering. Their judgment was final.

With a sigh, he tapped the display and put the phone to his ear. After three rings, it was answered by a polite, cultured voice. “Elijah. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Good afternoon, Pearl. I trust you’re well?”

“I am. What can I do for you?”

Elijah sat up straighter, conscious of his posture as if they were sitting in the same room together. “I have news, much of it unfortunate, I’m afraid.”

“I’m listening,” she said, her voice cooling the slightest bit.

_Where to begin?_ He cleared his throat and launched into the tale of Damon’s escape, pointedly skipping over the fact that Stefan was alive and also on the loose.

“How could you let this happen?” Her words were icy now, her patience obviously at its limit.

“I discovered one of my hunters was to blame,” he explained. “Elena Gilbert is responsible for Damon’s release. Caroline Forbes was also privy to her plans and aided her in her scheme.”

There was a sharp inhale on the other end. “Elena? This is deeply upsetting.”

“I’m afraid so. She admitted as much after I captured and questioned her.”

“What is being done about Damon?”

“My brother and I will commence the search for him tonight. I wanted to approach the Committee regarding Elena’s wrongdoings before addressing the other . . . issue.”

“You seem eager to condemn your most prized hunter. That’s unlike you,” she pointed out.

“She betrayed me. Her actions are inexcusable.”

He heard murmuring in the background and suspected Pearl had the call on speakerphone so Rose and Alexia could listen in.

“Our schedule is nearly full today. There’s only a small window in which we’ll be able to meet with you. Be here at 4 o’clock.”

“Perfect. Thank you,” he murmured, relieved that she’d granted him an audience on such short notice.

“Don’t be late, or your grievances will have to wait,” she warned.

“I’ll be there precisely at four.”

“Good. Until then.”

Before he could bid her adieu, the line went dead. Slightly surprised, he tossed the phone back on his desk and contemplated the upcoming meeting. He’d been fairly confident that things would go his way, but Pearl’s displeasure made him uncertain.

He took a moment to reorganize the notepads, pens, and pencils on his desk—a favorite calming activity—completely unaware that his sister was lurking just beyond his office door and had heard the entire conversation.

*****

Alaric tucked the paper sack under his arm and shuffled back and forth as he tried to drum up the courage to knock and announce his presence outside Damon and Elena’s room instead of creeping around in the hallway. He hadn’t stopped by since his first getting-to-know-you session with Damon, and Elena’s silence lately made him nervous. It wasn’t like her to ignore his calls.

Steeling himself, he rapped his knuckles on the wood and waited. Hopefully, they hadn’t taken off somewhere, or been busted by whoever was after Damon.

“Since when have you started knocking, Witchy?” came the response. Damon’s voice.

_Witchy? What the fuck?_ “Um, it’s Alaric,” he called out.

It was quiet for a few moments, and then he heard approaching footsteps. Damon opened the way and looked at him uncertainly. “Alaric, hey. What are you doing here?”

He scratched his head as he tried to think of something to say that didn’t scream _weird loner with stalker tendencies!_ “Uh, Elena hasn’t been answering her phone, and I wanted to make sure she was okay.”

Damon’s eyes dropped to study his boots before he stuffed his hands in his pockets and glanced back up at Ric. “She’s not here at the moment.”

“Where the hell is she?” he asked, his brow knotted with worry.

When Damon said nothing, Alaric’s concern turned into full-blown panic.

“Has something happened to her? Is it because of that job of hers? Dammit. Talk to me, Damon!”

“I’m handling it,” he quietly admitted.

“Let me help.”

“Alaric—”

“Just let me come in. Please.”

Damon pinched the bridge of his nose as if he were trying to decide whether to knock him out or let him join the party. He finally stepped aside with a heavy sigh and motioned for Alaric to enter.

As it turned out, even though Elena was M.I.A., Damon wasn’t alone. A pretty blonde gave him a welcoming smile and a little wave, but the man sitting beside her in the worn recliner had a haunted look about him, his dull green eyes and too-pale skin making him seem as if he’d recently been ill.

The woman strolled over to him and held out a hand. “I’m Caroline, and this is Stefan, Damon’s brother.”

His brother was in hiding as well? What the fuck had these people gotten themselves into? Alaric wondered. He shook Caroline’s hand and nodded at Stefan, whose return nod was almost imperceptible. “Alaric. Nice to meet you both.”

A tap on his shoulder drew Alaric’s attention back to Damon, who was gazing intently at the bag he held. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Uh, yeah.” He handed it to Damon and watched while he tore off the paper to reveal a bottle of their favorite brand of bourbon. “I figured you guys could use a pick-me-up.”

“Good call.” Damon cracked open the top and took a healthy swig before passing it to Alaric. “Glasses probably aren’t necessary.”

“Right.” Alaric swallowed a few mouthfuls and then offered the bottle to Caroline, who eagerly accepted. “So, what the hell’s going on?”

“Long story, Ric. I can’t tell you most of it,” Damon said with a shrug.

“You have to give me something.”

Damon stared at him for a minute, and Alaric felt like those eerie eyes could see straight into his soul where he could sift through Ric’s darkest secrets at his leisure. “Fine. Elena’s boss turned out to be shady as fuck, and now he’s got her locked up somewhere.”

“Does this have anything to do with you?”

“Possibly.”

“So she helps you out and gets kidnapped in return?” Alaric’s anger and fear for his friend were making him a bit more confrontational than he’d planned, but he didn’t care.

“It’s not like I wanted this to happen, Alaric,” Damon snapped, and for a split second, the whites of his eyes darkened with a reddish hue before he quickly turned away, stalking over to Caroline to retrieve the bottle of bourbon.

Shaking his head to clear his obviously confused brain—no one’s eyes changed color like that, after all—Alaric opened his mouth to argue some more when a knock at the door saved him from himself.

“Now what is it?” Damon hollered, scowling in Alaric’s direction as if he were responsible for the latest interruption.

“It’s me.” Alaric recognized Bonnie’s voice, and a sliver of relief allowed him to flex his hands, which he’d unconsciously balled into fists. “There’s someone here to see you, Damon. She says her name is Rebekah.”

“Rebekah?” The blank look on Damon’s face transformed into one of recognition followed shortly thereafter by rage. “Rebekah!” He opened the door and hauled another blonde, this one taller than Caroline thanks to the impressively high-heeled boots she was wearing, across the threshold while Bonnie shouted “Damon, stop!”

Ignoring Bonnie, he spun the newcomer around and pinned her to the wall, his fingers closing around her throat. “How did you find me?” he demanded. “Did your fucking brothers send you?” The woman clawed at his hand as she tried to free herself, but he refused to loosen his grip.

“Enough!” Bonnie placed a hand on Damon’s arm, and he recoiled as if he’d been burned. He hissed at her, actually _hissed_ , and took a few steps back, rubbing at a red mark on his skin that faded before Alaric could be absolutely certain it’d been there in the first place. He eyed the bottle of bourbon, now in Stefan’s possession, and wondered if he’d somehow gotten a bad batch. Meanwhile, Bonnie was talking to Damon in a low, insistent tone.

“She came here about Elena. You might want to hear what she has to say instead of blindly attacking her,” she scolded.

“Fine,” he spat before returning his attention to Rebekah. “What do you know about Elena?”

Rebekah stopped massaging her throat long enough to pull what appeared to be a very old journal and another stray piece of paper out of her purse. “You always were a bit of a ruffian,” she griped, handing him the items. “I,” she paused while she glanced warily at Alaric, “work with Elena. Elijah and Klaus are holding her in a cell at HQ until Elijah meets with the Committee. I had a chance to speak with her, and she told me you’d be able to use those,” she gestured to the things she’d just given him, “as proof of what my brothers have done.”

“You saw her? How is she?” When all eyes landed on him, Alaric realized he was the one who’d spoken. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Not particularly well, but she’s alive. For now,” Rebekah answered. “There isn’t much time. Elijah’s already on his way to Pearl’s.”

Damon nodded, opening the journal and flipping through the pages. “What are these?”

She took the journal and skimmed the entries until she found the one she was looking for. “Elijah’s journal. Here,” she said, handing it back to him. “This and the page that’s been torn out will give you all you need to prove my brothers’ guilt.”

He quickly read the passages she’d indicated, his eyes darkening as he digested the damning words. He tossed the journal onto the table when he was done and slipped the loose page into his back pocket. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“Because Elena does,” Rebekah pointed out. “We’re on the same side, Damon.”

Damon crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her, apparently hoping she’d burst into flames from the sheer power of his gaze. Alaric was impressed by the way she tilted her chip up and stared right back at him, unperturbed by his intimidation routine. The guy could certainly be scary when he wanted to be, Alaric noted.

The standoff continued for a few more minutes until Damon finally caved. “Alright, but if this ends up being a trap, you won’t like what happens next,” he warned.

His threat hung in the air between them, and Rebekah waved it away with a flick of her wrist. “It’s not, I promise. To prove it to you, I’ll go with you to Pearl’s,” she offered. “It’s the last thing my brothers would expect.”

“She’s right,” Bonnie murmured.

Damon scowled as if he still wasn’t fond of the idea, but he grabbed a duffel bag from under the bed and started throwing weapons—was that a _crossbow_?—into it.

“I’m going with you.” That was the second time Alaric’s mouth had gone off without consulting his brain, and now he was absolutely certain the bourbon was fucking with him.

“No, you’re not,” Damon shot back without hesitation.

“She’s my friend, too,” Alaric started to argue, but Damon moved quicker than his eyes could track and was standing in front of him moments later. “How the _hell_ did you do that?” he asked, fear making his voice jump an octave.

Damon gripped his shoulders to keep him still and stared deep into his eyes until Alaric’s mind went fuzzy around the edges. “Sorry, Ric, but I need you to forget about any strange shit you heard or saw here today. You had a little too much to drink, that’s all. You’re going to take a nice, long nap in the comfy bed over there, and by the time you wake up, Elena will be back, safe and sound.”

A wave of drowsiness almost made Alaric sink to the floor, but Damon caught him by the arm and led him over to the bed. Why was he so tired all of a sudden? It was only mid-afternoon. It seemed he’d slugged down more of the potent liquor than he’d thought.

As he surrendered to the overwhelming urge to sleep, he reminded himself that he needed to find a new liquor store, preferably one whose bourbon didn’t turn his head into mush.

*****

Elijah and Klaus arrived at Pearl’s house at exactly 3:55 pm. Elijah hoped their punctuality would help ease her unforgiving mood. He knocked on the door, and a guard let them in and led them down a long hallway, the walls adorned with priceless art. The man stopped at a pair of French doors and tapped lightly to announce the guests’ arrival.

“Enter,” Pearl called out.

The man opened one of the doors and ushered them inside the lavishly decorated living room in which Pearl and her companions Alexia and Rose-Marie kept their council. The three of them were seated in front of a marble fireplace, although no fire was burning in its grate.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Elijah offered, giving each of them a polite bow. “Thank you for granting me this meeting.”

Pearl’s mouth tightened in displeasure as she studied Niklaus with a critical gaze. “I thought you were coming alone.”

“That was my intention, but I felt my brother’s experiences working with Ms. Gilbert in the field may also be of interest to you,” Elijah hastily explained.

When Pearl remained silent, Alexia stood and walked toward Klaus, her heels clicking on the polished floor. “Very well. Tell us about her.”

“She’s ruthless,” the younger Mikaelson muttered.

“That’s often a valuable trait of hunters, is it not?” Alexia asked, addressing Elijah this time.

He nodded. “Within reason.”

“Then what seems to be the problem?”

“It’s more than that,” Klaus said. “She’s arrogant and willful, and she has little regard for other hunters unless they’re her bloody friends,” he grumbled.

“I can’t figure out if you’re jealous of her, or if she just stepped on your toes one too many times,” Rose mused, twisting in her chair so she could see around Lexi. “Perhaps it’s a bit of both.”

Klaus’s eyes flashed with anger, and Elijah put a hand on his arm as a reminder that he needed to keep his temper in check. “I am _not_ jealous of that bi—”

The rest of his useless rebuttal was cut off when something out in the hallway crashed to the floor and shattered, followed by a strangled shout from the guard. Pearl and Rose were on their feet in an instant, and Pearl shot Elijah a fierce look. “Did anyone else come with you?” she demanded.

“No, I—”

The double doors burst open, and Damon strode into the room, a crossbow held at his side. The two people flanking Damon left Elijah with little doubt that this was his own worst nightmare come to life: Rebekah was on one side and Stefan was on the other, both of them also wielding weapons.

“ _Damon?_ What . . .” Pearl’s words dried up when she caught sight of Stefan, her eyes widening in disbelief.

The elder Salvatore glared at Elijah and Klaus, his upper lip curling back to reveal fully extended fangs. “I think it’s time you learned the truth about what these two have done,” he growled.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.

“How . . . how is this possible?” Pearl stammered as she looked at Stefan. “You’re dead.”

Damon rolled his eyes while Stefan huffed in exasperation. “Obviously not,” he muttered.

Reaching into the duffel bag he’d slung over his shoulder, Damon pulled out the journal and handed it to the stunned vampire. “This belongs to him,” he said, pointing at Elijah. “He conveniently jotted down all of his dirty little secrets, including the fact that he kept my brother alive and let Klaus torture him for information that would lead them to me. Oh, and then there’s this little gem,” he added, taking the most important piece of evidence from his pocket and offering it to Rose, who was reading the journal over Pearl’s shoulder.

Damon hazarded a glance at Elijah, who’d gone unnaturally still, his eyes glued to the paper in Rose’s hand. “How did you get those?” he whispered. Beside him, Klaus’s face was an alarming reddish purple, a vein in his forehead throbbing at a frantic pace. When he turned his furious glare on Stefan, Damon automatically stepped in front of his brother, shielding him from Klaus’s view.

“They have me to thank for that,” Rebekah quietly admitted.

“Rebekah, how could you?” Elijah was visibly shaken by her admission, his skin even paler than normal.

She met his gaze, her mouth set in a firm line. “I’m sorry, Elijah, but I couldn’t let you destroy their lives, or Elena’s, any more than you already have. I can’t begin to understand the path that’s led you here, but I’m sure as hell not going to let this madness continue.”

“Pearl, you need to see this,” Rose interrupted, giving her the torn page. Once Pearl was reading, with Alexia following along over her shoulder this time, Rose turned her attention to Elijah. “What have you done?”

Elijah stood there like a statue, neither moving nor speaking, and Damon realized that the duplicitous vamp had finally been confronted by a situation in which no amount of manners or Old World charm could save him. Klaus, on the other hand, was a different story. He was doing his best impression of a volcano on the verge of a violent eruption.

“I trusted you to do the right thing in all situations, to be honorable,” Pearl murmured as she regarded Elijah, her elegant features reflecting a myriad of emotions—grief, anger, shock, pain. “Instead I find that you have abused your power and committed atrocious crimes. You murdered innocent people, beloved people. They treated you and your family well, and this is how you repay them and their children? All for foolish gain?”

“I confess I envied what they had—their closeness, their bond,” Elijah’s eyes darted briefly to Rebekah, “the respect they’d garnered, and selfishly, their power and influence. I wanted that for myself, for _my_ family. In the end, it didn’t matter what I had to do to secure it.”

“That much is certainly clear,” Pearl agreed. “You understand what must be done.” It wasn’t a question.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Klaus seethed.

“Kill me then and put an end to my shame,” Elijah said, ignoring his brother. He hung his head and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Elijah, you can’t be ser—”

“Silence, Niklaus.”

Damon watched Elijah closely, the whole interaction making him uneasy. Stefan shifted nervously beside him, no doubt picking up the same vibes. Elijah’s admission of guilt and the way he submitted to his punishment seemed genuine, but there was an edge to the man’s voice that suggested he hadn’t completely given up the fight. Sure enough, he slipped a hand beneath his suit jacket and removed a gun from the waistband of his immaculately tailored dress pants.

“Pearl, look out!” Damon hollered, aiming his crossbow at Elijah and quickly lining up his shot. The gun went off just as Damon squeezed the trigger, milliseconds too late. The bullet hit Pearl in the chest, and she staggered backward into Rose’s arms.

The room erupted into chaos, screams tearing out of Rose and Rebekah. Alexia had a stake in her hand and was advancing on Elijah, but she stopped in mid-stride when she noticed him staring confusedly at an ever-widening bloom of red on his formerly pristine white shirt. The tip of a crossbow bolt was barely visible in the center of the wound, the force of the blow having driven it all the way through his chest. He slowly sank to the floor, his skin turning a sickly gray with dark, raised veins snaking across it.

“Rose!” Damon called to the distraught vampire, who was cradling Pearl in her lap. “You have to try to take the bullet out. It might’ve only grazed her heart.” Elijah didn’t normally miss his mark, so Damon could only hope he’d been agitated enough to mess up this time.

As Rose set to work removing the bullet and Rebekah knelt beside her brother’s body, Damon scanned the room in search of Klaus, a second bolt at the ready. When the bastard was nowhere to be found, he and Stefan took off down the hallway, Damon nearly knocking over Caroline when the two of them collided just inside the main entrance. He’d instructed her and Bonnie to stay on lookout duty in case Elijah had called in other hunters as backup.

He caught her before she fell and turned back to the doorway where Bonnie was now standing, her face flushed as if she’d also been running.

“What is it?” He glanced expectantly between the two of them. “C’mon. I don’t have all day.”

“It’s Klaus,” Bonnie said, pausing to catch her breath. “He took off like his ass was on fire. I tried to stop him with a spell, but he disappeared before I had the chance.”

“He’s headed back to HQ,” Caroline added. “I’m sure of it.”

“Fuck,” Damon snarled. “He’s going after Elena.”

*****

“Elena . . .”

The voice curled around her like a warm blanket, comforting in its familiarity. She cracked open her lids, taking in the soft smile and pale blue eyes that greeted her. His hair was slightly disheveled, and she tugged weakly on her chains, wanting to run her fingers through the dark strands, to touch him, anything. “Damon?” she rasped. “You can’t be here. They’ll kill you.”

“Don’t worry. It’s safe now,” he reassured her, taking a key from his pocket and working to free her from the shackles.

She frowned at the key even as one of the cuffs opened and her arm fell loosely to her side. “Where did you get that?” she murmured. “Elijah keeps the keys hidden in his office.”

“I have my ways,” he answered matter-of-factly. With a flick of his wrist, the second cuff gave way, and she nearly crumpled to the floor. Damon caught her, hugging her tightly.

She breathed in his scent, her mind struggling to make sense of what was going on. It all seemed too . . . easy. “Where’s Caroline? Bonnie? Stefan? Did Rebekah give you the jour—”

A finger settled over her lips. “Shh. They’re safe, too, and Rebekah gave me everything.”

She kissed his finger and managed a small, grateful smile. “Good. That’s . . . good.” She was pretty sure she’d never been so tired, sore, and hungry in her life. “Can we go soon? I’d give anything for a bed right about now.”

“Of course, baby.” He held her close to his side while he reached for something behind his back. “Just one last piece of business to attend to.”

As she wondered what that might be, he swung his arm around and rammed the object into her chest. She screamed in agony, her eyes filling with tears as she glanced down at the stake that had neatly pierced her heart. “Why?” she cried, her strength slipping away and her vision dimming.

“Payback,” Damon announced, a disturbing sneer on his face. He gave the shoddily carved wood a brutal twist, splinters embedding themselves in her dying flesh.

She wailed as a fresh wave of pain overtook her, wishing it would all just end—

“You didn’t think I’d let you get off that easy, did you?” Klaus whispered in her ear. “I’ll admit it was delightful to see the look in your doe eyes when your lover took your life.”

Elena gasped, her mind resurfacing in the real world and her entire body trembling as echoes of Klaus’s horrible vision continued to assault her senses. “Fucking bastard,” she groaned.

His hand shot out, connecting with her cheek as the vicious slap resounded off the walls of the small cell. “I’ve had about enough of your mouth. Perhaps it’s time I remedied that situation, hmm?”

He retrieved her knife—the blade now coated with her dried blood—and stalked back over to her. He clamped a hand on her jaw and squeezed until the only options were to open her mouth or suffer through more broken bones. “I don’t think you’ll be needing your tongue anymore. Let’s just get rid of that little annoyance.”

Elena tried to jerk her head away or bite him, anything to stop the impending torture, but the blood loss had left her unable to fight him off. She closed her eyes as cool metal pressed against her lips, the burn of the vervain causing her to cry out.

Before Klaus could cut into her, the door crashed open, making both of them jump. Elena squinted at the new arrivals, her sight going blurry as unconsciousness threatened to drag her under. She shook herself in a desperate attempt to stay alert.

Klaus whirled around to face the intruders but stopped short when a crossbow bolt slammed into his chest. He roared in pain as he pulled out the bolt and let it clatter to the floor. “You missed,” he snarled.

“That was a warning shot.” Elena recognized Stefan’s voice, grim with determination.

“You sure about this, Stef?” Damon asked. At least she hoped it was really him and not a figment of her imagination this time.

“I’ve got his back, Damon. Go,” her best friend reassured him.

“Siding with them, Caroline?” Klaus inquired with mock sweetness. “I thought you cared for me.”

“You thought wrong,” she replied, her blunt words acting as weapons of their own.

Klaus muttered something indecipherable, and then the fight began in earnest when Caroline removed her sword from its sheath and swung it in a wide arc, missing Klaus’s head by a fraction of an inch.

Elena tried to track the battle, but her eyes kept drifting shut until they finally stayed that way. She was almost out when a gentle caress on her cheek roused her.

“‘Lena?”

“Hmm.” A finger skimmed over her bottom lip, and she winced at the sting left behind by Klaus’s handiwork.

“I’ll gut the fucker,” Damon hissed.

“Get out of here while you can,” she whispered. “If Elijah comes back—”

“Not a problem.”

It took all of her remaining strength to lift her head and peer at him through bloodshot eyes. “Did you . . .?”

He gave a sharp nod, reaching up to yank on her chains. When they stayed put, he frowned and glanced behind him where Stefan and Caroline were trading blows with Klaus. Thankfully, they seemed to be holding their own. “Help a guy out, will you?” he asked, and Elena had no idea who he was talking to until she realized Bonnie was standing a few feet away. She hadn’t seen her enter the cell with the others.

“They’re spelled?” the witch asked.

“Yep.”

Bonnie focused on the shackles and muttered a few words of what sounded like some variation of Latin to Elena’s untrained ears. The locks snapped open, and Elena tried to catch herself, but her legs wouldn’t hold her weight. She braced for impact with the cold, filthy floor, but Damon easily scooped her up into his arms.

She curled as close to him as she could possibly get, wishing she could crawl inside his jacket. He kissed the top of her head and maneuvered them away from the all-out brawl taking place in the center of the room. “Hang in there, baby. It’ll be over soon,” he murmured, edging slowly toward the door.

A shriek split the air, startling Elena. “Caroline!” she shouted, struggling feebly in Damon’s grasp. She managed to twist around just enough to see that Klaus had slashed into Caroline with the vervain blade. Her friend was on her knees, clutching her side while Klaus advanced on her with the knife raised in preparation to drive it through her chest.

“ _No!_ ” Elena’s scream turned into a gasp when Stefan took advantage of the distraction and raced up behind Klaus, burying his fist in Klaus’s back. The stunned vampire stumbled, the blade falling from his hand and clattering to the floor. Stefan’s hand burrowed deeper until it was clear he had a firm grip on the asshole’s heart.

The rapid click of heels drew their attention to the doorway where Rebekah appeared with Alexia in tow. The youngest Mikaelson quickly surveyed the room, sighing in relief when she saw that Elena was safe. Alexia cautiously approached Stefan, placing a hand on his arm. “Let me handle this, Stefan,” she soothed. “More than enough blood has been spilled.”

He stared at her for a moment before reluctantly releasing his hold on Klaus’s vital organ. Without giving Klaus a chance to recover, she plunged a syringe into his neck and dispensed the contents, watching with a cool glare as he collapsed at her feet. “He’ll receive the punishment he’s due, I assure you,” she explained, giving Stefan a small smile.

“Thank you, Lexi,” he said, returning the gesture to the best of his ability. The end result was more grimace than grin, but she didn’t seem to mind. He helped Caroline to her feet while Alexia addressed the group gathered in the dingy cell.

“I’m sorry for the hell you’ve all been through. In light of what’s happened, it’s clear we have much to discuss in the coming days, but for now, go get some rest and heal. We’ll be in touch.” She met each of their eyes in turn and nodded. Lingering on Damon, she said, “Pearl survived the attack. We owe you a great deal.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment, careful not to disturb Elena, who’d tucked herself under his chin.

Stefan and Caroline walked over to Bonnie, Elena, and Damon, and for a minute, none of them said a word, too shocked to properly process everything. Finally, Caroline broke the silence and awkwardly threw her arms around Elena, which meant hugging Damon as well. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Ditto. Thanks, Care, and everyone, really,” Elena added, her gaze ticking from Caroline, to Damon, to Bonnie, to Stefan, and finally to Rebekah as she joined them.

“Why don’t you guys go back to the house, and we’ll meet you there shortly,” Damon said, waving his brother, Caroline, and Bonnie toward the door.

Once they were gone, he looked at Rebekah with a mixture of regret and sadness written on his handsome face. “I’m sorry about Elijah. Despite the things he did, he was still part of your family.”

“I don’t blame you, Damon. You were trying to protect Pearl.” She paused, and a tear slid down her cheek before she wiped it away. “I loved my brothers, but I don’t recognize the monsters they became. Perhaps after the dust has settled, we’ll be able to find some peace.” She gave Elena’s arm a gentle squeeze and left the cell.

Damon carried Elena out into the hallway, leaving Alexia to deal with Klaus, and they had almost made it to the top of the stairs when Tyler Lockwood skidded to a halt in front of them.

His eyes grew wide at the sight of Damon. “Wha . . . what are you doing here?” he sputtered.

“Killing you if you don’t get the hell out of my way,” Damon snapped.

Elena had never seen someone disappear as quickly as Tyler did in that moment. “That was easy,” she muttered, unsuccessfully fighting back a yawn.

“I tend to have that effect on most people,” he said with a chuckle.

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m not ‘most people,’” she pointed out.

“True. Let’s get you back to Bonnie’s, huntress of mine.”

“Lead the way, O Fearless One.”


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.
> 
> Author's note: Last chapter! I had an absolute blast writing this fic, and I hope you enjoy the ending. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Huge thanks go to [daroh](http://archiveofourown.org/users/daroh/pseuds/daroh) for being an awesome beta and idea bouncer-offer! <3<3

“It doesn’t matter where you hide, princess. I’ll always find you.”

Damon’s voice echoed through the enormous house, and Elena ran faster, her heartbeat pounding in time with her rapid footfalls as she raced down a seemingly endless hallway and up a flight of stairs. She knew she was in trouble; she was in the wing of the boardinghouse with all the bedrooms, and the only escape routes were the stairs—no longer an option once the thud of Damon’s boots on the carpeted steps reached her ears—or a dive through one of the windows, made nearly impossible by their ancient, sticky latches.

Deciding that her only choice was to sneak into one of the rooms and crawl under a bed or stuff herself in an armoire, she started testing doors. For some unexplainable reason other than it was just her luck, the knobs refused to budge. Every single one was locked, and there was no time to attempt picking them. “What the fuck?” she snarled in frustration.

“Elena . . .” he called from the top of the stairs. “If—or _when_ , I should say—I get my hands on you, you’re mine. I don’t plan on showing you any mercy,” he threatened.

She tried one last handle, yanking on it until the door rattled in the frame, but it wouldn’t give. She planted her foot against the aged wood and was about to kick it in when she was yanked backward, an arm hooking around her waist and cinching it tight until she felt like her elbows were fused to her hips. Realizing Caroline was her only hope, she started to shout her friend’s name, but her cry for help became a muffled yelp when a hand clamped over her mouth.

“Hush,” Damon growled, his warm breath fanning her cheek. “The last thing I need is for Barbie to shoot me in the ass with a crossbow bolt. _Again_ ,” he stressed. “Girl really needs to work on her aim.”

_No, I’m pretty sure she meant to nail you there_ , Elena mused as her lips parted and she prepared to sink her teeth into his palm.

“Bite me, and I’ll gladly return the favor,” he husked, nipping her earlobe.

Removing his hand long enough to fish a key out of his pocket, he quickly unlocked the door she’d been desperately trying to open and dragged her inside. The second they were across the threshold, he slammed it, flipped the lock, and spun her in a half circle, his mouth covering hers before she even had the chance to draw a breath. He sucked on her bottom lip, then captured it between his teeth and tugged. She gasped, and his tongue slipped inside, tangling with her own and curling around her lengthening fangs.

She moaned as a hand crept under her shirt and skimmed up her side, making her shiver with want. He squeezed her breast, her nipple hardening beneath his palm. He plucked at it, and she arched into him, her hips grinding against the prominent bulge straining at the zipper of his jeans.

Damon finally broke the kiss, and her feet left the ground as he lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the huge bed that dominated the room. He laid her down on the plush comforter before crawling onto the mattress and settling between her legs. Propping himself up on an elbow, he combed his fingers through her ruffled hair, smoothing the mussed strands.

“Looks like I caught you, just like I said I would,” he murmured. “You know what that means.”

“No mercy,” she whispered, repeating his earlier threat.

“None whatsoever.” He smiled as he slowly undid the buttons on the black silk shirt she was wearing. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and he _tsk_ ed as he pulled her arms out of the bunched fabric. “Stealing my shirts, too, I see. What am I going to do with you?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” She flashed an unapologetic grin, lifting her arms so he could tug her matching black cami up and over her head.

He took significantly longer to remove her jeans, stopping every few inches to pepper kisses over her heated skin. By the time he’d slid them off and tossed them on the floor, she was more turned on than she’d ever been in her life, which was saying something considering Damon had been a main fixture in it for the past six months. He smirked as he watched her writhe on the soft bedding, his thumbs massaging the arch of her foot while he kissed the tip of each painted toe.

Her lacy boy shorts were the next to go, but he removed these quickly, giving her a brief respite from the sensual torment. “So,” he said, trailing a finger along the inside of her thigh, “shall we find out how long it takes for me to make you beg? Not that it’ll do you any good,” he added with a wicked chuckle.

“You’re evil, you know that?” she muttered, biting back a groan when his wandering finger changed direction, working its way toward her throbbing sex. It slipped between her folds for only a moment before tracing a path up to her hip and belly.

“So I’ve heard.”

He stretched out beside her, and she eyed him suspiciously, wondering how he was managing to stay so calm. Damon was many things in the bedroom, but laidback wasn’t one of them; he clearly had this all planned out in his mind, and she was sure it was every bit as nefarious as she’d feared.

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when his tongue flicked at her nipple while a hand drifted over her ribcage, across her stomach, and down her leg, completely bypassing the place where she wanted him most. It settled on the underside of her knee, and he gently scratched at the sensitive skin there, making her giggle. The giggle immediately turned into a gasp when his lips closed around her nub, suckling, nibbling, and . . . humming?

Yes, that was it. Now the jerk had added humming to his arsenal, and the delicious vibrations it created were driving her insane. “Not . . . fair,” she panted.

He just smiled against her breast, pushing a finger inside her and giving her a few lazy strokes before it was gone again, leaving a trail of dampness on her thigh.

The game Damon had devised was relentless, his technique masterful. The longer it went on, the less Elena was aware of time passing or of the outside world in general. The house could have fallen down around them, and she wouldn’t have batted an eye.

He continued to work her into a frenzy as he licked her pulse points and nipped at her belly and thighs. When her lips parted on a wordless cry, he popped a finger into her mouth. Surprised, she sucked on the digit, her tongue swirling around it the same way she longed to do to his cock. He finally pulled it free, dragging the wet tip over her nipples and then blowing on them, grinning smugly when her back arched completely off the bed.

He alternated between fucking her with his tireless tongue and fingers, always backing off before she fell over the edge. It was too much and yet not enough. She needed more. Less. More.

“Damon,” she wailed, a tear sliding down her cheek as the countless sensations overwhelmed her. “Please. I can’t take it anymore.”

“I suppose I’ve made you suffer enough,” he murmured, kissing the tear from her sweat-slickened skin.

“Please,” she whispered again.

“Hold on, baby.” He stood and shucked off his jeans, his fully erect cock bobbing against his lower belly. Sinking back down to the mattress, he tugged her closer, hooking her leg over his hip. He teased her for only a moment, rubbing his hard length over her clit once, twice until she hissed, her nails biting into his arm.

Warning received, he entered her with one quick thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The orgasm that had been hovering just beyond her grasp slammed into Elena with the force of a freight train. She exploded, a scream tearing out of her throat and echoing off the walls. She was dimly aware of Damon straining above her, his rhythm faltering as he neared his own release. With a shout, he followed her into oblivion, his hips jerking against hers.

He collapsed beside her, pulling her languid form into his arms. She nuzzled his chest and gave him a tired, albeit sated, smile.

“Was that merciless enough for you?” he asked, stroking her back in a soothing motion.

“And then some.” She yawned, curling into his warmth. “Wake me up in a week, will you?”

“What’s the matter, Ms. Gilbert? Have I successfully exhausted the huntress extraordinaire?”

“Don’t be a smartass. Besides, paybacks are my specialty, you know,” she pointed out.

“Can’t wait.” He pulled the comforter over them, and within minutes, the only sound was their mingled breathing as they drifted off to sleep.

*****

Stefan hesitated outside his brother’s bedroom. Did he really want to face the consequences of disturbing Damon? He checked his watch, realizing there was really nothing to be done for it. Their guests would be arriving within a half hour, and the host and hostess were still in la-la land.

Sighing, he rapped his knuckles on the door and waited. When no one stirred, he did it again, more insistent this time. “You still alive in there?”

“ _What_ ,” came the answering snarl from within.

“If you don’t get yourselves out of bed, you’re going to be late for dinner.”

“Ah, fuck.” The sheets rustled, and there was a loud yawn followed by a giggle from Elena.

“I’m still here, guys.” No wonder they were tired; they couldn’t leave each other alone for more than two seconds. He and Caroline had heard Elena’s scream while he was rearranging the patio furniture and she was decorating the space with strands of white lights and bouquets of wild flowers, a specialty of hers, he’d learned. Caroline had been ready to run to her friend’s aid, but Stefan had stopped her, reassuring her that Elena wasn’t in _that_ kind of distress.

“Get lost, baby bro. We’ll be down soon.” The sound of lips on skin reached Stefan’s ears, and he took the hint, racing down the stairs before he was assaulted by any other conspicuous noises.

He found Caroline in the kitchen where she was busy putting together a toss salad. She gave him a dubious look when he joined her at the counter. “Have they come up for air yet?”

“Not yet. Soon, hopefully.”

While she finished up the salad and gathered plates, utensils, glasses, and napkins, he set about preparing the main dish: eggplant parmesan. They worked well together, and he’d discovered that he quite enjoyed her company. When he, Damon, and Elena had finished renovating the boardinghouse, Elena had invited Caroline to stay with them. The perky vamp was adept at reading his moods, giving him space on bad days but also sitting with him when he woke in a cold sweat after one of the numerous nightmares that still plagued him. Even those were less common now, and he was sure he had Caroline to thank for that.

When the food was nearly ready, the doorbell rang and Caroline jumped up to answer it. She returned with Alaric and Bonnie in tow—the former cradling his signature brown paper bag and the latter carrying a huge chocolate cake.

Caroline’s eyes widened as she carefully took the cake from Bonnie and set it on the counter. “Ooh. Can we eat this now? No offense, Stefan. I’m sure your eggplant parm is delicious but . . . chocolate.”

He laughed. “No offense taken.”

Alaric made himself at home, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and cracking open the bottle he’d brought. “Don’t mean to be rude, but I know Damon’s got a shit-ton of this stuff in the cellar, so it won’t matter if I get started on this one.” He poured himself a generous portion before glancing around the room. “Speaking of which, aren’t we missing a few people?”

Stefan shook his head and gave him a wry grin. “Yeah, they’re—”

“Right here! We’re right here,” Elena called as she stepped into the room, hand in hand with Damon. Both of them had damp hair, and Elena was sporting a few rapidly fading hickeys on her neck. Caroline rolled her eyes and whispered in Elena’s ear, making her friend blush and turn up the collar on her shirt while Damon smiled in approval at his handiwork.

Elena hugged Bonnie and Alaric, and Damon clapped his newfound bestie on the back, taking a swig from the bottle that was offered to him. “Thanks, Ric.”

“The food smells wonderful, Stefan,” Elena said, giving him a peck on the cheek. She poured glasses of wine for Bonnie, Caroline, and herself and gestured toward the patio. “Shall we?”

*****

Dinner was indeed delicious, Elena noted, taking a big bite of Stefan’s _Top Chef_ -worthy cooking. “This is amazing.”

“Thanks,” he said, almost shyly. Caroline beamed at him, and Elena couldn’t deny how happy she was to see the two of them growing closer. They just . . . fit.

Her thoughts did an abrupt about-face when she felt Damon’s hand snaking up her leg. “Knock it off. We have company,” she whispered, even though her traitorous heartbeat was thundering in both their ears.

“So?” he countered, brushing her hair back so he could nibble on her neck.

“So _behave_ for once in your life.”

Alaric cleared his throat and Elena straightened in her chair, her cheeks a bright shade of pink.

“How’s work these days, now that you two are off the hook and out of hiding?” he asked.

Elena bit her lip as she tried to think of a vague response. They loved spending time with Ric, but they always had to be careful not to spill any supernatural beans in his presence. “Um, it’s fine. Busy. You know, the usual.”

“Well, that was informative,” Alaric laughed. “How do you like being the boss?”

He was referring to her recent promotion, courtesy of Pearl. Elijah’s death had left a vacancy in the leadership of the hunters, a position she’d asked Elena to fill. “It’s nice. A lot of responsibility and work, but I don’t mind.”

Bonnie took a sip of her wine and chimed in, addressing Damon. “How about you? How’s the transition going?”

“Pretty smoothly. The damage caused by Elijah and Klaus isn’t irreparable. It’ll just take some time to get things sorted.” Shortly after the showdown at Pearl’s, she’d spoken to him about stepping into his rightful place as leader of the vampire community now that the threat from the Mikaelsons had been neutralized and Klaus’s ass was rotting away in the Committee’s personal prison. Damon had been reluctant at first, but with Elena’s encouragement, he’d eventually agreed.

“Glad to hear it,” Bonnie said. “At least I don’t have to worry about you streaking around my house anymore.”

He shrugged. “It’s not like it really bothered you.”

“You’re such an ass,” she shot back, lips quirking as she tried, and failed, to keep the smirk off her face.

“It’s what makes me so lovable.”

“Sure, buddy,” Alaric chuckled. He poured refills for himself, Stefan, and Damon, and Elena reached for the wine, filling her own empty glass as well as Caroline’s and Bonnie’s.

“We need to do this more often,” Elena said as she glanced around the table, smiling at the gathering of friends and loved ones. Without each and every one of them, things would’ve turned out much differently. Tragically.

“A toast,” Damon announced, raising his glass. “Here’s to an amazing group of people that changed, and saved,” his eyes landed on Elena, “my life.”

“And mine,” Elena said.

“And mine,” Stefan softly added.

“Cheers!” The clinking of crystal filled the evening air, and Elena was delighted to see that more than one kiss was exchanged as she pulled back from Damon’s tempting mouth just in time to spot Stefan with his lips pressed to Caroline’s cheek.

It was funny how things had a way of working themselves out in the end.

*****

“Thanks, Rebekah. We missed you at dinner tonight. Oh, and Elena sends her love.” Damon grinned as he listened to the vivacious vamp return the sentiment. “I’ll see you tomorrow then? Great.” Ending the call, he tossed his cell on the bedside table and relaxed into the mound of pillows behind him. It was a relief to know that not all of the apples on the Mikaelson family tree were rotten. Rebekah had proven to be remarkably resourceful in the days since Elijah’s demise and Klaus’s incarceration. Aside from Elena, he considered Rebekah to be one of his most trusted advisors. She had a knack for handling delicate situations, which was a valuable skill in his efforts to smooth ruffled feathers and quiet false rumors about everything that had happened.

Elena chose that moment to step out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a black V-neck and a mischievous smile, effectively distracting him from his thoughts.

“You’ve been raiding my drawers again. Naughty girl,” he pretended to chide her.

“I can’t help it. Besides, your shirts are comfy and they smell like you.” She hopped up on the bed and crawled into his arms when he held them open for her.

“I’m right here. You can smell me whenever you like,” he said, laughing when she buried her nose in the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply. “Better?”

“Mmhmm.”

She rested her head on his chest with a soft sigh of contentment, and his fingers found their way into her hair, stroking the long, silky locks. “Who would’ve thought we’d end up like this—here, together—after all the shit that went down,” he mused.

“I know,” she agreed. “It’s wild. Not that I’m complaining.”

“Glad to hear it,” he murmured, entwining his fingers with hers and raising their joined hands to his mouth so he could feather kisses over her knuckles. “Think you’d be up to sticking around for the long haul? I can’t promise every day will be sunshine and rainbows, but I can’t imagine doing this without you.”

She glanced up at him, and he stared into her beautiful brown eyes, marveling at how lucky he was to have her in his life. She was the perfect combination of soft and strong, loyal and lethal.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she answered simply, and her words were all the affirmation he needed.

“That’s good. Really good.”

He rolled them over, easing her back against the pillows so he could nuzzle her throat and trace the long, elegant lines of her body, temporarily hidden from view by his shirt. He’d happily spend the rest of eternity worshipping the woman who’d seen through the bullshit surrounding him and had saved him and his brother from a gruesome fate, rescuing his family legacy in the process.

He didn’t know how many surprises might lie ahead—some pleasant, others less so—but he could take all of them in stride as long as she was by his side.


End file.
